Shipwreck
by astraplain
Summary: An afternoon of leisure turns into a challenge for survival for Ray, Florian and Solomon.
1. Chapter 1

"Catch anything?" Solomon took a seat beside Florian and looked out at the water. The fishing pole was held lightly in Florian's hands, but he seemed more interested in watching the sunlight reflect on the gentle waves.

"Nothing worth keeping." Florian shifted so Solomon could see the old boot and a bit of damaged net on the deck near Florian's feet. It wasn't surprising that he hadn't caught anything, considering that he was too squeamish to use bait.

"Put this on." Ray dropped a hat on Florian's head where it landed slightly askew. He adjusted it to his satisfaction, ignoring Solomon's amusement. "Don't want you getting sunstroke now that you've finally conquered your seasickness."

"Thank you." Florian looked up at his companion. Like Solomon, Ray had taken off his dress shirt and was wearing only a plain white cotton t-shirt and casual pants. Unlike Solomon, he'd taken his shoes off. He was grinning like he always did when he was off on an adventure.

Florian was still fully dressed - years of his mother's training in manners and appropriate behavior were difficult to overcome. But he had unbuttoned the top two buttons and put his tie in his pocket – where it would remain until they returned to port.

"I'm still not sure how you convinced your cousin to lend us his private yacht," Solomon commented. He reached over and took the fishing pole from Florian's hand and propped it up against the side of the boat where it could be tended if needed.

"I was telling him that Florian had never learned to fish. Once he heard that, Michel insisted we use his yacht." Even without the strangled noise that Florian tried to disguise as a cough, Solomon would have recognized this as a "fish tale."

"How generous of him," Solomon said dryly. Florian had dutifully watched and listened while Ray and Solomon taught him to fish, but it was clear that he doing it to humor them. He seemed to be cautious about the whole idea of being on a boat, although the elixir that Laila had given him did spare him from seasickness. Still, one look at the bait they'd brought along and he'd gone green, so Ray had tossed it overboard.

The cook at the house they were renting had prepared a huge picnic basket full of food for them and added some light wine and bottles of water. Ray handed one of the water bottles to Florian and another to Solomon before taking some wine for himself. Solomon would have protested, but the combination of warm sun and soothing waves were likely to make him sleepy without adding wine into the mix, and he preferred to stay alert.

Ray set the basket down between them and took a seat, picking through it until Florian reached over and tugged on his sleeve.

"Allow me." He reached in and withdrew the tablecloth, spreading it over a small table before arranging the food while fending off Ray's attempts to snack. When he was finished, he made a show of handing Solomon the first plate.

"Tell me again why we're in Australia without your usual entourage?" Solomon asked while they lunched. "And why you brought me along instead."

"We're on holiday. Officially and unofficially," Ray added, giving Florian an impudent grin. "I don't want to spend it fighting off kidnappers."

Florian just raised one eyebrow and gave Ray a look that made Solomon almost choke. Florian calmly reached over and patted Solomon's back, never breaking eye contact with Ray. The look wasn't threatening or overly aggressive, but clearly Ray had been on the receiving end of it often enough to understand the full implication. He was the first to look away.

"Dessert?" Florian asked pleasantly, and Solomon noticed that the first and largest piece of cake was given to Ray along with a warm, intimate smile. Solomon looked away politely, too used to such moments between these two to be bothered by them.

A short time later, comfortably well fed and drowsy in the warm mid-day sun, Solomon closed his eyes and pretended to nap, giving his two friends some privacy. He never intended to actually fall asleep.

XXXXX

"Solomon, get over here!" Solomon awoke with a start, frowning up at the darkening sky over head. He felt thick-headed and disoriented but a glance at his watch assured him that he'd only been out for about forty-five minutes.

"Tie this off over there and help me with the anchor." Ray was calmly and quickly preparing the boat against what was surely going to be a fruitless attempt to beat this storm into port. Wind was coming up quickly and waves were rocking the boat, occasionally sloshing over, making the deck slippery and unstable.

"Where's Florian?" Solomon asked, having to raise his voice to he heard over the wind.

"In the cabin. Laila's magic potion won't help him with this kind of weather, and I'd rather he be safe inside than out here, too sick to do anything."

They worked quickly and efficiently, both of them having just enough experience to get the yacht into the best position. All they could do now was hold on and hope for the best.

"Ray! Solomon!" Florian staggered out of the cabin clutching raincoats for the two men. He agreed to Ray's demands that he return to the cabin, but only if they would give him the picnic basket and other small items that hadn't been secured. Arms full, he made his way back into the cabin, asking one last time if they would join him.

Florian barely made it through the door when a huge swell of water rose up, drenching the two men on deck and making them scramble for a firm hold. It was as black as midnight now, with no stars to give them direction – only the howling winds and furious waves beating against them.

"Inside with Florian!" Ray shouted, but Solomon refused, trying to push Ray towards the cabin.

"You go. I've had more practice with boats."

"We'll both go. There's no way either of us are steering in this. Come on."

They staggered towards the doorway, mere steps away but the wind made it seem like miles. Solomon was almost there; he could see Florian reaching for him.

He heard the wave before he saw it.

XXXXX

Florian remembered this - the heavy silkiness of water pressing in on all sides leaving him breathless and almost overwhelmed. He hadn't succumbed to it then, and he wasn't going to give in to it now.

But it was dark, the water was grasping at him, tossing him roughly, and there was no one in his arms this time, depending on him for survival. All he could do was pick a direction and swim, and pray that the water surrendered before his body did.

XXXXX

Solomon clung to the side of the ship, his body alternately pulled and pressed as he and the boat were savaged by the waves. His fingers were going numb from the pressure of his grip, but he held on, determined to ride this out and find his companions.

It was a good plan, he assured himself. Just keep holding on.

It might have worked if he hadn't turned his head, trying to clear the water from his eyes, and caught sight of a body lying limply across a bit of debris.

A body he'd recognize anywhere - even here in the storm tossed ocean.

Damn.

Three deep, measured breaths, a moment to calm himself, and then Solomon let go.

XXXXX

Ray scrambled for a better grip on the rope, wrapping it around his arm twice to try and secure himself. The boat was tossing wildly and he'd lost sight of Florian and Solomon - he feared that one or both of them had been swept away.

Some of the items they'd secured were breaking free from their bindings and being tossed around the deck, making every effort more difficult. If he could just make his way to the cabin and make sure that Florian was safe, then he'd go find Solomon.

Slowly, keeping a tight grip on the rope, he worked his way across the deck, losing his balance and falling twice. He was trying to pick himself up when the heavy box broke loose. He only had seconds to lift his arm before it crashed into him.

He felt a searing pain in his arm and then another one against his back as something hard collided with him. He lost his balance and fell, striking his head. The last thing he saw was a huge swell of water coming at him.


	2. Chapter 2

There was sand in his mouth. Florian rolled onto his side, coughing and spitting. His eyes felt caked with sand and salt, and he rubbed at them, grimacing when he only managed to make them worse.

He was soaked through and sticky and felt as if he'd been badly beaten – every part of his body ached.

The world was sideways – or maybe that was just him. His thoughts felt as battered as his body and for a long time he just stayed where he was, not thinking.

Dimly, he wondered where Ray was.

Ray!

Florian sat up too quickly and nearly overbalanced as his hand sank into soft, wet sand. He looked around, taking in the debris-strewn beach. Where was Ray? And Solomon?

He struggled to his feet, his head pounding, and lurched forward a few steps before his mind caught up to him. He remembered the sudden storm and the shock of being swept away into the ocean. He remembered swimming endlessly, until he was too exhausted to even think about what he was doing – moving his arms and legs and hoping that he was headed towards land.

There had been no time to pause and look for the others – and no way to call for them over the sounds of the storm and the waves.

Grimly, he looked out at the choppy water, seeing nothing that resembled either a yacht or human bodies.

It just means they reached ground elsewhere, he told himself as he started moving along the shore. He'd find them; it was just a matter of time.

XXXXX

"Hold still!" Solomon snapped. He bit his lower lip in concentration as he wrapped another strip of cloth from his shirt around Ray's head. It was too wet to be of much use, but it was better than nothing, and it might help slow the blood flow.

"Stop fussing and find Florian," Ray snapped back. "I don't need a nursemaid." He was dizzy and nauseous and in pain, but that didn't mean he was going to let Solomon mother him. Especially not when Florian was nowhere to be seen.

"I didn't haul your unconscious self all the way up the beach only to have you keel over from blood loss. Now hold still while I do this, and then I'll go find your troublesome friend."

Ray snorted in amusement at that; it was the first time Solomon had ever called Florian 'troublesome' – a term that Ray used frequently.

"We can't really blame him for this one," Solomon said after a moment of consideration. "Just bad luck that we got caught napping. Literally." He made a face as he splinted Ray's arm with two sticks for support. The head wound and the possibly broken arm seemed to be the worst of the damage. There was a nasty bruise on his back too, and probably more on his legs. Solomon had been luckier – he was battered, but didn't seem to be bleeding and nothing was broken.

"Go find him," Ray said, making it a request this time. He was paler than Solomon had ever seen him. That was cause for enough concern that Solomon hesitated until Ray added, "Please."

"Five hundred paces along the beach in each direction. If I don't find him that way, we'll come up with another strategy." Setting off at a brisk pace, Solomon silently counted steps, his eyes sweeping the beach and the water alternately as he went. There was some debris on the beach and more in the water. Just ahead, a short distance out, there was something that looked like white cloth. Without hesitation, Solomon headed towards it, walking slowly through the water.

It was hard holding himself back, but he knew he was too tired to swim the distance – he'd have to be patient and walk as much as he was able. It had taken almost everything he had to reach Ray and keep holding on until they both reached the shore.

Ray had been unconscious for most of the journey – a small mercy as far as Solomon was concerned. He'd remained that way even after they reached land. Solomon had had to drag him out of the water and up the beach until he was in the shade of a huge tree.

Solomon had collapsed beside him, just breathing and trying to ease the burn in his muscles. He wasn't exactly out of shape, but he was exhausted after such an effort. As much as he was worried about Florian, he just didn't have enough energy left to care for Ray and search for his missing companion.

But now that he'd rested a little, and Ray had regained consciousness and had stopped vomiting, Solomon couldn't delay any longer.

He knew before he reached it that the cloth was just a shirt – no one inside it. He reached out and caught the end of it, tugging it free from what appeared to be the remains of a wooden deck chair. Solomon took that too, as well as a few other pieces of wood that floated nearby. He carried them all to the shore and up onto the sand far enough back to be safe from the tide. He wasn't sure why he did it, but the familiar items, even soggy and broken, made him feel a bit better.

He stabbed several pieces of wood into the sand and spread the shirt out over them to dry, hesitating when he felt a weight in the breast pocket. He peered in at the little book, recognizing it instantly as the one Ray always carried – Florian's account book.

Without knowing why, Solomon carried the shirt along as he resumed his search for Florian. He continued his count as he paced up the beach, allowing himself an extra fifty paces for good measure. He slowly scanned every direction before turning back.

He retraced his steps as briskly as his aching body would permit. Ray was awake and watching him as Solomon approached with the soggy shirt.

"I found this just off shore. It's yours."

Ray accepted the garment, his face oddly blank as he patted the pocket and confirmed that the account book was inside. He turned to the left, awkwardly spreading the shirt out on a rock to dry. Solomon left him too it while he resumed his search for Florian.

The shoreline curved in and then extended out again creating a tiny cove. There was a lot of debris there and Solomon increased his pace, forgetting to count.

Some items had been washed up onto shore – boxes, an intact deck chair, and even some cushions and other small things he recognized from the yacht. There were larger items too – floating within easy reach - barrels and planks of wood, and even a steamer trunk.

Solomon forgot all about his fatigue as he dragged the most promising finds up the beach to beyond the waterline. He could try to salvage more, once Florian had been found.

With one last look at the floating debris, Solomon continued for another three hundred paces, stubbornly determined not to return to Ray empty-handed. But eventually he gave in and started the long walk back.

He stopped at the little cove again, taking another survey of the items and rescuing the remains of the picnic basket and part of Florian's fishing rod.

He presented these to Ray, pretending not to see the disappointment and worry on the man's face.

"I'll go out again soon. First we'll need to find some water and shelter for tonight. If we're lucky, we'll have a few more hours of daylight."

"We need a fire," Ray added. He was holding his head unnaturally still and Solomon wondered if his condition was more severe than he was admitting.

"Water. Shelter. Fire." Solomon repeated dutifully. "I'll see what I can find. You stay here - and try to stay awake." He tried to make it a joke, but he didn't quite pull it off, and Ray's look let him know that.

Solomon hurried off towards the tree line as quickly as he could go.

XXXXX

"Safe water, shelter, food, fire." Florian made it a marching rhyme. He had walked along the shore for a while, checking for footprints or any sign of his companions. He'd found nothing but leaves and debris from the storm.

A length of salvaged wood proved sturdy enough for a walking stick, and he used it to keep himself moving and to poke at bushes and clumps of grass to ferret out wild animals. So far, he'd only managed to irritate a small furry something with a long tail and a bad attitude.

His thoughts seemed to be scattered, and he had to keep bringing his attention back to the task at hand. A few minutes later, they'd stray again, conjuring up memories of adventure stories set on exotic islands overrun with pirates and/or savage natives.

With a self-mocking smile, he continued on, sternly reminding himself that his friends were missing and needed to be found as soon as possible.

He took up the rhyme again, stopping only when he heard a distant shuffle that might be an animal. He moved ahead cautiously and caught sight of a small creature that resembled a miniature deer. He followed it carefully from a distance, watching as it approached a stream and drank.

"Safe water," he told himself, looking around and making a mental note of the location and how he'd arrived there.

The deer moved away from the water, stopping to nibble on long, thin grass and then nuzzling at a thick bush to expose dark reddish-purple berries.

"Food," Florian said softly. He followed the deer for another minute, so busy concentrating on his surroundings that he forgot to watch his feet. He stepped on a stick and it gave way under his foot, causing him to stumble and startle the deer.

Alone, but feeling a bit better, Florian took a small handful of berries and tried one cautiously. It was tart, but edible, so he ate the rest before kneeling beside the stream and drinking deeply.

On his feet again, he set off towards a large grouping of rocks, hoping for a cave, or at least a space with some shelter. What he found wasn't ideal - it was too open for his taste, but it was protected on three sides, and it would have to do.

Now all he needed was to find a way to make a fire, and most importantly, find Ray and Solomon.


	3. Chapter 3

Ray was leaning against a tree, eyes closed, breathing heavily. He had been sick again, perhaps more than once.

"Ray?" Solomon spoke in a normal tone, keeping his manner business-like as he set his precious bundle of almost dry wood down. He'd also found a small pool of fresh water that he'd tested himself with apparently no ill effects. In his pocket were some nuts and on top of the wood were sprigs of tart berries that he'd also tested.

"Ray?" he repeated, kneeling down beside the man. He was even more pale than before, and he seemed to be sweating.

"Florian?" he mumbled, turning his head and opening his eyes with effort.

"Firewood and some food," Solomon replied. He pulled off his own battered t-shirt and draped it over Ray. It wouldn't offer much warmth, but at least it was dry. He checked Ray's clothes, frowning at the dampness. He really needed to start that fire. But first, he needed something to carry water - preferably something that would hold enough to last until morning; he really didn't know how much longer his legs would hold out.

"I've found water not too far from here. I'll go get some and then get the fire going.

"There's probably not much daylight left."

"I'll look again as soon as we have a fire and some water."

Solomon casually covered the puddle of vomit with sand – more for Ray's sake than his own. He climbed to his feet again, his body beyond exhaustion.

After a few minutes of searching for something that would hold water, he remembered the steamer trunk. He hurried back up the coast as quickly as he could, searching along the way for a suitable water container. The tide was higher, and it had brought more debris- mostly unusable, but Solomon picked up a few of the longer pieces of wood anyway.

When he reached the trunk, he set his new salvage aside. He smashed the trunk's lock with a rock and flung it open to reveal an array of water-logged women's clothing, shoes, ruined make-up, a few books including a journal, and a jewelry case. Solomon examined the drawers, ignoring the feeling that he was violating the trunk owner's privacy. It was possible she was here standed here too, another victim of the storm.

There were no matches in the trunk - not that Solomon really expected to find any, but there were several bottles of perfume. Better yet, it appeared as if the drawers were well lined and might be able to hold water – at least long enough to carry if from the source to Ray.

Solomon considered dragging the whole trunk back to their temporary camp, but gave it up as impossible – at least for today. He was just too exhausted. Instead, he picked out two of the dresses and the one jacket and piled them into the largest drawer along with the jewelry case and the perfume. He closed the trunk and turned back towards Ray, taking a moment to study the beach in the opposite direction for any sign of Florian.

More weary than he'd ever been in his life, Solomon started walking.

XXXXX

The sun was setting, and Florian was cold. His clothes were almost dry, but they still clung to him. He had taken off his dress shirt and fashioned it into a carry sack to transport the three coconuts he'd found. One of them was damaged, the milk drained out of it, but he could use it to hold water.

He trudged along the beach, making note of possible locations to check for better shelter or more berries. There were a lot of leaves, seaweed and shells on the beach, but no sign of Ray or Solomon.

Animals were moving in the underbrush off to his left, but he ignored them and kept walking. He'd marked his trail with "x's in the sand so he could find his way back, but he didn't want to give up searching until it was too dark to continue.

He was more clearheaded now – the water and berries had helped – but he was no outdoorsman. He just hoped he would find the others soon so they could come up with a way to get home.

He followed the curve of the beach, his pace increasing when he caught sight of something lying on the sand. It was a large section of fishing net. He set his bundle on it and gathered them both up. The net might be useful.

The tide was coming in, so he moved farther inland but continued to walk, setting his goal as the small headland extending out into the water. He was tired and achy, but having a goal energized him, and he moved faster. Surely Ray and Solomon were close.

A bird flew out of a nearby tree, startling him, and he clutched at his bundle. He stood still for a long moment before relaxing again and moving forward. He laughed at himself, remembering a time he'd been so frightened by a bird in his mother's garden that he'd backed up and fallen into the fountain. She'd scolded him softly and sent him off to change. Hot cocoa and cookies were waiting for him when he'd returned.

Florian smiled at the memory. Time had softened his grief enough that he could remember his mother without the sharp spike of pain. Time and Ray. He couldn't imagine what his life would be like if Ray hadn't taken him in and let him stay after Florian's mother was killed and their home destroyed. Perhaps he'd have gone to work somewhere - not that he was particularly suited to being a businessman or a clerk.

But playing "what if" was useless - his mother, uncle and aunt were dead, and he had a home and a life with Ray.

A recent memory of Ray swinging down from a low tree branch to surprise him made Florian smile. Ray had laughed so freely, that it had surprised Florian more than his sudden appearance. There had been a lot on Ray's mind lately, and it was good to see him so carefree.

That was the day he'd told Florian about their trip to Australia. It had been a good day spent together without the usual household disturbances. Laila was on a month-long journey with Michel. Noel was visiting his grandparents, and Ray's usual group of associates were all given time off. Solomon was Ray's version of a security detail - one that Florian was glad to accept. He liked and respected the man and, more importantly, so did Ray - no matter how much they bickered.

These thoughts made Florian feel more confident that they'd find each other soon. By tomorrow night they'd probably all be laughing about this latest adventure. 

XXXXX

"Slowly," Solomon cautioned as he held the shell to Ray's lips and let him sip some water. The drawer wasn't waterproof, but the water was leaking out slowly enough that what he'd brought back should last for a few hours. Tomorrow he'd find a way to seal the drawer or would find something else to use.

Solomon had found a small walnut-type nut and broken it open, hollowing it out into a tiny cup so Ray could drink. He'd crushed the nutmeat and fed a little of it to Ray along with two cups of water. So far it had stayed down, but Ray's fever was increasing. He'd need better food and something to bring that fever down soon.

"Time to get you out of those damp clothes," Solomon told Ray as he struggled to remove Ray's t-shirt. He set it aside along with his own before starting to remove Ray's pants. They'd already survived the awkwardness of Ray needing to relieve himself, so Solomon knew he could do this. He just needed to stay business-like and calm.

A short distance away, near a small grouping of trees, Solomon had smoothed the sand and laid out a pile of large palm leaves. The dresses he'd rescued weren't dry yet, so he'd hung them from the trees to create a bit of shelter. A few steps away from the palm leaf mat was the small fire he'd managed to create, using a bit of perfume to help.

Once Ray was laid out on the mat, Solomon covered him with more leaves. He'd join him soon, so they could share warmth, but Solomon needed a few minutes to himself, to plan for tomorrow.

Ray was restless, but he did seem to be sleeping. Solomon watched him toss and turn before joining him, climbing onto the mat and trying to get comfortable. He felt uneasy and vulnerable in only his undershorts, but he didn't want to sleep in damp clothing. And this way he could share body heat with Ray.

His mind chased itself for a while, but finally exhaustion took over, and Solomon slept.

XXXXX

Florian huddled in his rocky shelter, clutching a bunch of palm leaves for warmth. Beside him were the three coconuts – one for water and the other two for protection. He hadn't been able to start a fire.

He'd stayed out too long searching for Ray and Solomon and had been worried that it would be too dark to find his camp. Now that he had, he was too nervous to sleep. There were sounds everywhere – ocean waves, wind rustling through grass and trees, and animals calling to and warning each other.

"Tomorrow I'll find them," he told himself, not allowing any doubt. He would find them. And Ray would wrap his arms around him, hold him tight and reassure him that everything was fine – and when Florian least expected it, Ray would take out that little account book and find a way to charge him for all of this.

Oddly, the thought of that little book – the one Ray always carried in his shirt pocket - was what finally calmed Florian enough to let him sleep. 

XXXXX

Ray dreamed – hideous, terrifying dreams of loved ones lost or dying. He chased them, always chased them, but he was never fast enough. Not enough for his parents. Not enough for his childhood friend, Azura. Not enough for Florian.

Sometimes they were almost close enough to touch – watching him with sad eyes as he reached and reached but never far enough to make contact. They looked at him, they called him, but he was never fast enough, never clever enough.

And because he failed, they disappeared – dead or gone – and Ray was left alone. Always alone.

He woke with a soft cry, the sound bitten off as he rolled over and was violently ill.

When he was done, he lay back, spent, his body still vibrating with tension from the dream. The man at his side was still sleeping, but even in this state, Ray knew it wasn't Florian. Solomon, he reminded himself. Solomon Sugar. He was glad not to be alone, but this wasn't the person he wanted beside him.

Florian! Ray looked around frantically and saw his shirt. Unsteadily, he reached for it, nearly moaning as his body and stomach and head all rebelled. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so weak and disoriented.

Catching an edge of the garment, he pulled it close and fumbled for the pocket. There – the book! It was wet, so he didn't try to take it out of the pocket. It was probably ruined anyway. But it was Florian's, and it was important. Holding onto the shirt tightly, Ray curled himself around it and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

It was just past dawn when Florian awoke. His body protested every movement, but he needed to get moving and find his friends. He made a trip to the stream to drink some water and wash his face. The cool water helped to make him feel more alert and energetic.

The air was a little cool and he wished he had a coat. Not that he'd need it for long, he reminded himself.

Moving as briskly as sore muscles would allow, he started towards the shore, carrying along a handful of berries and the bundle of coconuts. He'd filled the one with water like a canteen.

He scanned the beach as he walked, looking for any sign of other humans. There were some animal and bird prints, but nothing close to human. He stopped at a tree closest to the waterline and in an almost direct line with where he'd taken shelter. Using the broken edge of a seashell, he carved an x into the tree at eyelevel. To make sure he had a good reference, he twisted several large leaves together into a rope and tied them around the tree.

"The sun is... there. So that's east." He spoke out loud for comfort and in hopes that if anyone were nearby, they would hear him. Perhaps Ray and Solomon were already found, and it was only him that was lost. If that was the case, he'd never hear the end of it from Ray. "To the west, then," he told himself, arbitrarily picking a direction.

He still had his walking stick, and he used it as he'd often seen older aristocrats do - as both a support and a prod. He poked at curious bits of seaweed and at interesting shells, and even pieces of wood and oddments washed up by the previous day's storm. He didn't find anything he recognized, and the only useful items were a large, shallow shell that might serve as a scoop or as a cup, and a piece of old glass worn smooth that glittered like an emerald. He added them to his bundle and kept moving.

The only time he stopped for more than a few seconds was when he found a dead fish washed up on the shore. It was as long as his forearm, and he briefly considered taking it along in case he needed a meal. In the end, he left it, telling himself that he could always catch something fresher now that he knew how to fish.  
>XXXXX<p>

Solomon wasn't beside him when Ray woke, head throbbing and vision blurred. He lifted his head as far as he could without making the nausea worse and tried to determine if any of those blurry shapes was his friend.

He couldn't remember ever having felt this bad before. His tongue felt thick and swollen, his head throbbed and his body felt so painfully heavy that he couldn't stand to move any more than necessary.

Helpless and miserable and thoroughly disgusted with himself, he closed his eyes. He wallowed for a while, feeling a bit sorry for himself, but he wasn't usually one for such self-indulgence, so he turned his thoughts to Florian instead. He could just imagine what kind of trouble his companion would get into if left alone for too long.

Ray remembered the shirt containing the little account book and felt around until he found it. The shirt had dried, so he carefully extracted the book. It was soggy and probably ruined – he didn't even try to open it. Instead, he turned slowly and reached towards the low-burning fire. Solomon had left a small pile of wood nearby, so Ray added a piece to the flames before pulling one of the warm rocks out of the circle and setting the book on it, hoping it would dry quickly.

Exhausted from having done so little, he lay down again and rested. He'd just close his eyes until Solomon returned, and then they'd both go find Florian.

He was sound asleep when Solomon returned.  
>XXXXX<p>

Solomon stared out at the horizon, taking just a moment for himself before going back to Ray. He'd lived a mostly solitary life since his sister and her husband were murdered. Part of it was his drive to find her killer, and part of it was his defection from the police force. He'd thought of some of the other officers as friends, but they'd been quick enough to mock him when he hadn't caught the elusive Phantom Thief, Noir. It certainly hadn't helped that Solomon had taken more interest in the thief than in his co-workers and overbearing boss.

Leaving the police and becoming a private detective had been the right thing to do, Solomon didn't doubt that, even if he sometimes regretted the loss of a steady paycheck. And it wasn't like he didn't have friends and acquaintances – but there was no one special in his life, and he was often lonely.

Or, at least he had been lonely before Ray and Florian had somehow drawn him into their little group of misfits. Not that Solomon objected, really, it was just surprising – considering he'd started his association with Ray purely as a matter of pride – trying to prove to his own satisfaction that the notorious usurer was Noir.

In the end, he'd been proven right and wrong, and had somehow managed to make friends in the process.

Not that he was ever going to stop teasing Ray – it was far too much fun to stop, and Ray seemed to enjoy their little battles as much as Solomon did. Florian, by contrast, was a calming presence when the battles, or life in general got a little out of hand. Not that Florian wasn't without his moments – the man could be reckless especially when trying to protect someone he cared about. And the fights between Florian and Ray were something to be seen – preferably from a distance. But even when they fought, it was clear how much the two men depended on each other.

Well then, Solomon told himself as he turned away from the water, time to go find him. If he could bring Florian to Ray, he was sure it would be exactly what Ray needed to recover.  
>XXXXX<p>

Florian had never been overly fond of coconut, but right now it tasted marvelous. He had broken one open and sipped the milk throughout the morning as he trekked along the shore looking for his friends. When the milk was gone, he smashed the coconut and gathered up the pieces to add to his supplies. Rather than stopping for lunch, he munched on coconut meat as he walked.

He'd added a bent fish hook, a length of fishing line and another gem-like bit of glass to his bundle. He paused occasionally to take a drink of water from his coconut canteen or to examine something interesting on the ground. In a few places there had been rocks extending from the water up the beach and into the trees. He'd spent extra time walking along them looking for any sign of his companions or their boat.

As the day wore on, his speed decreased, and he needed to take more breaks. He was starting to wonder if he would find Ray and Solomon before sunset. He'd stopped picking up or even looking for items on the beach – keeping his attention only on finding them. But now he stared out at the small ridge of rocks in the distance and wondered if he really had seen that before or if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

It didn't take long to confirm his fear; there was his 'x' carved into the tree, and there were his footprints – most, but not all, wiped away by the tide.

Weakly, Florian leaned against the tree. Tears stung his eyes, but he fought them back. This was no time to fall apart! Ray wouldn't fall apart – neither would Solomon. Or Laila.

He'd just have to try something different, Florian told himself. He turned to look towards the trees and the shelter where he had spent the night. He'd stay there again tonight, and use the time to plan. There were plenty of places here on this island where he hadn't looked yet. He'd find a methodical way to search, and first thing tomorrow he'd get started. After all, they were surely looking for him too – it was only a matter of time before they found each other.  
>XXXXX<p>

"Don't look at me like that," Solomon scolded lightly. "I know it tastes terrible, but you need to eat."

Solomon had mashed the berries and nuts together into a kind of paste and was using a bit of seashell as a spoon to feed it to Ray. The man looked awful, but he seemed more aware than he had the previous evening. Solomon hoped that meant that Ray was recovering. He hadn't vomited lately, so that was a good thing.

He'd convinced Ray to remain behind when he'd done the morning search, but it was clear that Ray wouldn't be put off much longer, and having him along would only slow their search.

"I think we should rig up some kind of roof, and maybe find a better way of using these leaves for bedding." Solomon motioned towards the flattened space where they'd slept. The leaves were flattened and tangled.

"Then I had better stay here and see what I can do." He looked directly into Solomon's eyes and added, "You won't get very far dragging me along anyway."

"Ray?" Solomon was shocked – he knew how Ray felt about Florian. He couldn't imagine the man conceding so easily.

"Find him, Solomon. That's all I ask." As he spoke, Ray reached out for the little account book. The cover and some of the interior pages were dry, so he turned it over.

"I'll do what I can," Solomon promised, wishing it was so much more.  
>XXXXX<p>

It was nearly dark when Solomon returned, hungry and tired. He was surprised to find Ray awake and sitting cross-legged beside the fire systematically deconstructing one of the dresses Solomon had found.

There was water in the drawer, so Solomon dropped to his knees beside it and drank from cupped hands. It wasn't exactly sanitary, but Ray didn't object. He simply reached over and set a banana-like fruit on a leaf along with some nuts and berries.

"Don't even ask how long it took me to get that fruit," Ray said, with just a hint of his usual attitude. "But I will say I've gotten very accurate when throwing rocks."

"Does that mean you knocked this out of a tree or that you terrorized some poor animal to get it?"

"I wasn't exactly up to climbing any trees myself, so I let someone else do it and then we shared the results."

"I'm sure you've charmed all the furry creatures in the area."

"It's a gift," Ray shrugged before turning his attention back to the dress. He was carefully working the thread out of the seams, doing his best to keep the thread intact. It took Solomon a moment to realize that Ray was using a jeweled hatpin as his tool. He had forgotten about the jewelry case he'd found in the trunk.

"I should have known you'd find the jewelry."

"Nothing much of interest. But this is useful. There was a name on the case: Madeline Pennington."

"Pennington…" Solomon thought for a moment, then said, "I think I remember reading about her in the papers a few years ago – lost at sea on the way home from Australia."

There was silence between them for a moment as they both thought of Florian.

"Her trunk survived. It's possible she did too – considering that we appear to be on an unidentified island somewhere in the Pacific." Solomon kept his tone light – he didn't want Ray to descend into one of his dark moods.

"And I'm currently using her hatpin to take apart one of her dresses." There was something oddly funny about the situation, so they both laughed, even if it did have a note of desperation.  
>XXXXX<p>

Florian's stomach ached, and he was cold. He curled up tighter under a pile of leaves and closed his eyes, visualizing his bedroom. He had a new silk duvet – a luxury that Ray insisted on – and hand embroidered pillow cases. The sheets were sinfully soft, and some days he lingered in bed because it was so warm and comfortable.

His room was a haven for when Ray was away, or when they'd had a disagreement, or when Florian needed a little time away from the frantic pace of Ray's household. His room was smaller than Ray's, but it was cozy and overlooked the garden. Beyond the high fence he could see other houses and sometimes caught glimpses of other people.

Sometimes, when he first came to live with them, Noel would have trouble sleeping. Florian would pull his chair right up to the window, and he and Noel would look out, making up stories about everything they saw until the boy calmed enough for sleep. On very rare occasions, when Ray was troubled, he would sit in that same chair and Florian would curl up in his lap and hold on tightly.

More than anything, Florian wished he could feel Ray's arms around him now – letting him know that, no matter what happened, they'd face it together.

It rained that night – soft and gentle, and Florian turned his face upwards and let the water trail down his face.


	5. Chapter 5

Solomon curled around Ray, trying to keep him dry. The mat of leaves Ray had woven loosely together with fabric from the disassembled dress helped to keep most of the rainwater off, but he didn't want to risk Ray getting any more ill than he was.

"Don't," Ray mumbled, shifting away from Solomon. He had put his shirt back on and tucked the finally dry account book back into the pocket. He put a hand over the pocket protectively.

"I'm keeping you dry," Solomon explained, but Ray still tried to shift away.

"Florian won't be happy with either of us if you catch pneumonia." Solomon tried to keep his voice even and make a joke of it, but he was too exhausted and worried to be patient. "If you won't be still I'll knock you out and put that dress on you."

Ray snorted and lifted up the edge of what had once been the very full skirt of a floral dress. Now it was serving as a blanket.

"Alright then. Be still or when we get back I'll tell Laila you were ill, and she'll make you one of her super stamina stews."

Even in the dim light Solomon could see Ray turn a little green. But at least he stopped fighting and let Solomon fuss. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but with a little shifting, they found a position they could tolerate and managed to sleep through until dawn.  
>XXXXX<p>

By mid-day, Florian had reached the highest point on the island. He eyed the tallest tree in the area and considered carefully before starting to climb it.

"If you fall and break a leg, Ray will never let you live it down," Florian told himself. It wasn't exactly motivation, but he felt oddly comforted. The tree bowed slightly under his weight as he neared the top, and he almost lost his grip several times. But finally he was high enough that he could hold back some of the large leaves and see out to the ocean.

Far in the distance, there was something hazy that might be another island. A sudden, stomach-dropping feeling made Florian lightheaded. What if Ray and Solomon weren't on _this_ island at all?

Fighting back panic, Florian turned his head as far as he could to the left and right, seeking anything – a ship, another island, a glimpse of the beaches here on this island. There was nothing.

He shifted just enough to be able to look behind him. Was that something dark on the water or just his imagination? He watched for several minutes, but was no closer to an answer.

Feeling defeated, he started to climb back down, hesitating as he reached a cluster of green bananas. He pulled at the bunch but couldn't dislodge the whole thing, so he settled for pulling off as many as he could before his body began to shake from the strain of holding on to such a precarious position.

He finished his descent and gathered up the fruit, hoping it wouldn't make him ill. He was starting to think he might be here longer than he'd hoped.

No, he corrected himself, he wasn't giving up yet. He'd finish his search and, if somehow his friends had ended up on another island, he'd just have to find a way to reach them.

Feeling more determined, he picked a direction and started off at a brisk pace. The sooner he resumed his search, the sooner he'd have his answer.  
>XXXXX<p>

"You've been busy," Solomon observed as he collapsed gratefully onto a pile of leaves serving as a seat by the fire. Ray had rigged up a canopy made from part of one of the dresses covered by a woven mat of leaves. Beneath it was a bed of leaf mats covered by more dress fabric. He'd even stuffed the two sleeves and converted them into pillows.

The trunk drawer was nearby, full of water and judging by the dry sand beneath it, Ray had found a way to seal the leaks. He'd even made cups out of a coconut shell. But the most impressive sight was Ray sitting beside the fire spit roasting two fish.

Solomon wasn't particularly fond of fish, but he was so hungry right now he'd be tempted to eat one raw.

"You were gone a long time," Ray commented with feigned indifference. He'd had far too much time alone with this thoughts and his illness. He was disgusted with his weakness and impatient to join the search for Florian. Seeing Solomon so weary just added to Ray's frustration.

He'd pushed himself all day, wanting to do his fair share as much as he wanted to keep himself too busy to think. Unfortunately, his mind had been working overtime even as his body faltered.

"I think we should rethink our strategy," Solomon offered into the silence. "There's too much ground to cover – especially if we have to double back every night. I think we'd be better off searching the coast by water."

"You want us to take the time to build a boat?" Ray glared at Solomon for a moment before returning his attention to the fish. He decided they'd cooked long enough and carefully lifted the skewer from the jury-rigged stand. He used a large piece of broken shell to push them off onto bark "plates" and handed one to Solomon along with a coconut shell cup full of water.

"I do. There's enough debris along the coast that we should be able to rig something small and light. We can travel by day and carry the boat inland at night."

"Or one of us can. I'm still more of a hindrance than a help."

"You're recovering. In a day or two, when the boat is ready, you'll be well enough to go." Solomon said matter-of-factly as he used the sharp edge of a shell to split open his fish and start eating. He could feel Ray watching him, so he concentrated on avoiding fish bones and remained silent.

"Best get some sleep," Ray commented after they'd finished eating, and Solomon had taken the fish remains down to the shore and thrown them into the water. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

Solomon agreed silently. He had already removed his shoes and socks, but it was warm enough tonight that he could take off his pants and let them air. Neither he nor Ray were particularly clean but at least he didn't feel as if he could offend everything within twenty paces.  
>XXXXX<p>

Florian regarded his handiwork critically. He'd found a new shelter with better protection from the wind and rain and within easy walking distance to fresh water. It was farther away from the beach than he would have liked, but the appeal of the space, sheltered on three sides and overhead by rock, won out.

He'd come to the conclusion that he was, indeed, alone on the small island. His next step was to find a way of getting to that distant island. At low tide, there was a long ridge of rock extending well out into the ocean in the direction of the other island. If he could make some kind of boat and anchor it there, he'd be able to start off much closer to his destination.

It was probably foolish – most likely the other island was too far to reach in one day, but Florian couldn't think of any other solution. It didn't seem likely that a boat would pass by, and he couldn't simply wait and hope someone came looking for him.

He smiled to himself as he pictured what Ray's reaction would be to such a plan – surely the man would laugh and shake his head, once again amused by Florian's naiveté. The image cheered Florian briefly; this once, he'd be glad to have Ray laugh at him.  
>XXXXX<p>

"Laila?" Michel knocked on Laila's door, his usual blasé attitude replaced by a serious demeanor. The telegram he held was wrinkled in his too-tight grip. It was late, but he didn't think this news should wait until morning.

"What's wrong?" Laila demanded as soon as she opened the door and saw his face. Her gaze dropped to the telegram, and she went pale. "What happened?"

"My representative in Australia sent this. Ray and Florian took my yacht out three days ago and never returned to port. There was a sudden storm…" Michel lunged forward to catch Laila, and she staggered backwards. He helped her to sit down on the edge of the bed, then knelt down in front of her. "Take deep breaths."

Michel had always admired Laila's spirit. As he watched, she brought herself under control. He wondered if it was this quality that made her and Ray friend, or if it was something that she had learned by watching him.

"How long will it take us to get there?"

"I can't just drag all my passengers to Australia."

"Then how quickly can you get me on another ship?"

"Not fast enough. We're two days away from our destination. We will arrive in port as scheduled and have all the passengers disembark. I'll have my people make arrangements for a smaller, faster ship to meet us there."

"Two days…" Michel expected Laila to protest, but she simply nodded. Then she straightened and looked around. "I'll need to coordinate with your staff in Australia; make arrangements for Ray's return. Can you assign someone to work with me?"

"Of course," Michel agreed. Then he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek, because they both needed the reassurance. 


	6. Chapter 6

The captain was in a very bad mood. She slammed her door to make sure everyone on her ship knew it. She fumed for a few minutes and then there was a light knock on the door.

"Get in here," she snapped, knowing that the only member of her crew foolish enough to risk her wrath was her first mate, Trembly.

"The men are in the brig as ordered, Captain." Trembly looked appropriately serious, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He was a big bear of a man, and far nicer than his appearance suggested. People had been known to give him a wide berth just because he looked so fierce.

"Between the four of them they haven't got half a functioning brain," the Captain lamented. "How can they not remember where they hid that trunk? At least tell me they're blaming the rum instead of their own idiocy."

"They're not saying much at the moment," Trembly replied, taking a seat and making himself comfortable. He'd known the Captain long enough to know when she needed a friendly ear. It wasn't easy being the only woman on board; being the Captain made it doubly hard. Especially since they hadn't had enough money or reputation to hire a decent crew.

"Tell them..." she cut off the angry tirade, leaning back with a sigh. "Tell them all will be forgiven if I get that trunk back. What were they thinking, taking it off to bury it without asking me?"

"They thought it was a treasure chest," Trembly couldn't hold back the smile that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had a wicked sense of humor and laughed easily - that was part of the reason the Captain liked him.

With another sigh, the Captain lay her head down on the desk, her unruly mass of brown hair tumbling out of its messy bun.

"I need a new crew. Actually, I need a new job. But mostly, I need a haircut."

"We've had this conversation. I'm not a beautician."

"And I'm not really a pirate, but here we are" She sat up again, tugging impatiently at her hair. "I still need a haircut. If you won't do it, I'll use my knife - and you know how that turned out last time."

Trembly snorted with amusement at the memory. "You looked like a very sad poodle."

"And the crew couldn't look at me for days. So spare us all, and give me a damned haircut."

"Captain! Such language."

"Learned from you, you old fraud. Spare me your false outrage - I had enough of that from my family and their whole community of aristocratic wastrels. I play by my own rules now, not theirs."

"Still bitter about that pre-arranged marriage then?"

"'Til death' and all that. As if I'd spend my life beside that ridiculous womanizer - let alone have his children or darn his socks!"

"I see," Trembly said with upmost sincerity, "The socks were the breaking point."

"Damn right. I don't even darn my own socks."

"No, you bully one of your crew to do it instead."

"Pfft. And a shoddy job it was too. All of my crew are incompetent. You'd think they'd never read a penny dreadful in their life. We're supposed to be terrifying - scourge of the seas and all that rot - and they make me a Jolly Roger flag in pink! "

"They used florals for the skull and crossbones." Trembly added helpfully.

"I hate them all," the Captain said mildly. "Now are you going to cut my hair, or am I going to get Wilkins to do it?"

"Wilkins is half-blind. He might do a better job of it."

"Just cut my damn hair, Trembly. It's going to be a long day."

XXXXX

This probably wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had - Florian was sure if he thought about it longer, he'd come up with something more foolish - but this had to be one of the top contenders.

There was a fallen tree, and here was a large, sharp-edged shell. Would it really be enough to make a boat? Or could he risk something more reckless and save the time it would take to hollow out the log - riding on top of it instead? He could compromise and smooth the top a little to make it a more stable seat.

He'd still need some kind of oar, and maybe there was a way to rig a kind of sail to help speed his journey. He didn't think he could row the entire distance.

Ray would probably laugh at him and tell him to stop reading ridiculous adventure stories, but Florian didn't want to be here alone any longer than he had to. Somewhere out there Ray and Solomon were searching for him. He needed to find them.

Perhaps luck would favor him - it had before. No matter how many difficult situations he'd been in, he'd always survived. He'd survive this time too - for Ray's sake as well as his own.

With a stronger sense of determination, Florian set to work. He'd need to prepare his boat, and gather some food and water. With luck and good weather, he could be on his way tomorrow.

XXXXX

"He's out there, probably doing something foolish," Ray commented as he sat beside Solomon and ate his meager meal. He'd spent the day constructing a crude sail out of the second dress and testing out tree sap as a form of sealant.

Solomon had done the heavier work of finding likely materials for constructing a boat. There was plenty of wood scattered along the beach - some of it probably from Michel's yacht. He'd dragged it and the trunk back to camp and left it to Ray to salvage as many usable nails as he could.

"He's probably doing the same thing we are - constructing a boat so he can search for us."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Ray couldn't keep the worry and exhaustion out of his voice. He'd pushed himself hard all day and his body was so worn out he wanted to collapse and not move again for a year. He had a constant headache and, although it was better, his stomach was still touchy - the grilled fish he'd eaten the previous evening hadn't agreed with him, so he'd stuck to fruits and nuts today.

"All the more reason for us to find him first. Here," Solomon took Ray's leaf-plate away, and set it aside. He put an arm around the man and drew his head down to rest on Solomon's shoulder. "Rest like this for a little while. You haven't been sleeping well. "

"I don't mean to keep you awake. You're the one who's been doing all the hard work. I've been useless."

"Not at all, Ray. You've provided the food and water and a roof over our heads as well as a bed. It's not like you to feel sorry for yourself."

"And it's not like you to coddle me. That's Florian's job."

"One which I'll gladly return to him," Solomon said fervently before laughing at Ray's expression.

Ray didn't say anything else, but he didn't move out of Solomon's embrace.

XXXXX

"There are more than a dozen possible islands to search," Laila reported to Michel as they sat down to eat. It was a hasty meal with none of the pomp that Michel usually insisted on.

"I don't have enough staff there to search them all at once. Do they have an idea of where to start?"

"Your manager, Galloux, is coordinating with the captains of three other ships in the area who have agreed to help with the search. They're starting at the smaller and less populated islands and will keep in contact with each other. Galloux will coordinate all the information and report back to us twice a day until they're found."

"Galloux is a good man. All of my men are." Michel offered Laila a reassuring smile and reached out to take her hand. They were dancing around each other, still trying to decide how they fit and what kind of a relationship they wanted, but he wouldn't deny comfort to someone in need because of his own uncertainty. He'd often been called arrogant and self-absorbed, but he did have a heart.

"Thank you," Laila said sincerely. "For everything. And... " Laila broke off, shaking her head as she struggled to find the words. "For being you - the real you," she finally added. She looked away, as if she didn't want him to see her distress.

"For you, always," Michel assured her quietly, meaning every word.

XXXXX

Florian laid out his supplies and studied them. He had water, bananas, two coconuts that he'd opened and then resealed that he could use for the liquid and the meat. There were sharp shells to use as blades, and the length of rope he'd made from stripped leaves, staying up half the night to braid the stalks.

Making the rope by the light of a small fire had been slow, frustrating work. Florian's hands were a mess of cuts and blisters, but he thought he had enough rope for his needs. If not, he'd just have to improvise.

He'd fashioned a harness to help him remain on the log in rough waters, and had a jury-rigged sail that he hoped would withstand today's mild winds to carry him to his destination.

With the bundle of supplies on this back and the makeshift oar in hand, Florian towed the log-boat along in the shallow waters until he'd gone as far as he could walk. He'd originally intended to anchor the boat and start out the next day, but he'd gotten a pre-dawn start, and the weather was calm, so he decided to try his luck. If fortune was with him, he'd be on the next island before nightfall.

XXXXX

"Give me that!" The captain snatched the spyglass out of Wilkins' hand and focused on what was indeed a man sitting on a log in the middle of the ocean. He appeared to be attempting to navigate across open waters with what looked like coconut halves lashed to a long stick.

"I really am surrounded by idiots," she mumbled before she bellowed for Trembly. "Get someone out there in a lifeboat before I rethink my generosity."

"Aye, Captain," Tremblay barked as he strode off to corral a volunteer for this rescue mission. The captain and most of the crew gathered to watch as the small boat was lowered and Trembly and Davidson - one of the newer recruits - rowed towards the makeshift craft. They came alongside the log and appeared to have an animated conversation before the man was helped into the boat.

"Captain," Trembly greeted as he clambered up the rope ladder on the side of the ship. He swung himself over the edge easily, landing with a thump on the deck before turning to offer a hand to their new passenger. The man seemed unsteady on his feet, so Trembly kept a grip on him even after he'd arrived safely onboard.

"My thanks for your timely rescue, Madame," Florian greeted the woman in front of him with a polite bow. He was a bit too stiff and sore to manage his usual grace, but he gave it his best effort. "Florian du Rochefort."

"Captain, if you please," she countered, "And what in blazes were you doing in the middle of the ocean on a log?"

"Attempting to reach that island," Florian gestured towards the distant land mass. "My friends and I were shipwrecked several days ago, and I believe they are on that island."

"And you weren't with them?"

"Unfortunately, no. I was there," he pointed to the island he'd left only a few hours before. "There was a storm, and I was washed overboard. I swam some distance before reaching land. I searched everywhere and can only assume that they were stranded elsewhere."

The Captain studied the sunburned, exhausted man in front of her. There was a familiar air about him, underneath current appearances. It reminded her uncomfortably of the aristocrats she had been so desperate to escape from. A sudden flash of inspiration made her smile in a way that made even Trembly wary.

"Your timing is fortunate, Florian du Rochefort. It seems I have a vacancy for cabin boy. You may stay and earn your keep, and, if I'm pleased with your efforts, I will take you to your destination once I have completed my current mission."

"Oh..." Florian faltered - it had never occurred to him that she wouldn't take him to Ray and Solomon immediately. He gathered himself quickly. "With respect Captain, I thank you for your offer, but if you cannot offer me transport to that island now, I would ask that you return me to my vessel."

"Your log you mean," she countered calmly. "I can't do that."

"Perhaps you would loan me the use of your lifeboat? I would gladly pay for your inconvenience. But my friends - they may be injured and in need of assistance. I cannot risk their welfare by delaying my arrival."

"You're certain they're on that island? You know this for a fact?"

"No, but it is a reasonable assumption. The storm could not have carried them much farther than it carried me."

"If they indeed survived," the captain pointed out coldly. "I won't disrupt my mission on the slim chance that your friends survived. You will have to wait."

"I see." Florian gave her a half nod and bowed his head as if in defeat. Trembly let him go, and as soon as the man took a step away, Florian dove for the side of the ship, intending to jump. It took Trembly and two others to restrain him.

"Take him below and lock him up. A few hours to calm down and he might listen to reason."

"Please," Florian begged as he was dragged away. "Please! They need help!"

He could be heard begging and shouting all the way to the brig.

XXXXX

Ray was moaning and thrashing in his sleep. Solomon tried waking him, to no avail and finally settled for wrapping his arms and legs around Ray to keep him from harming himself.

It was a humid night and Solomon couldn't decide if Ray was just overheated or if he was running a slight fever. Their water supply was just out of reach and whenever he tried to shift closer to it, Ray struggled harder against Solomon's hold.

"Ray," Solomon finally resorted to shouting to get the man to wake up. It didn't work at first, but he suddenly came to with a gasp. Solomon could feel him trembling.

"Florian?" Ray asked brokenly, his eyes unfocused.

Solomon stroked Ray's forehead soothingly and didn't speak over the lump in his throat. Tomorrow, he vowed silently. He'd finish the boat no matter what. He had to find Florian.

XXXXX

Florian leapt to his feet as soon as the outer door opened. He pressed himself up against the bars, ignoring the sleeping forms of the men he was sharing a cell with. They'd proved uninterested in talking to him - or even in staying awake, so Florian had filled the time building various arguments for why it was necessary to search for Ray and Solomon immediately.

He'd also entertained a series of increasingly wild and desperate escape plans, but one look on the captain's face and he knew most of them were next to impossible.

"Captain, please. I beg of you. Find my friends, they may be in danger."

"They're in no more danger than you are at the moment. Hold your tongue or I'll have my men remove it." The captain fingered the knife at her waist meaningfully and Florian fell back a step. Still, his desperation didn't ease. He had to find a way to convince her.

"I would pledge my service to you, but I am already in debt to the man I am trying to find. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you?"

Without a word, the captain held up her hand and her huge first mate came forward and opened the cell door. He reached in and hauled Florian out before slamming the cell door closed again and locking it. Inside, Florian could hear his former cellmates moving and wondered if their sleep had been feigned. Not that it mattered, he had more important things to concentrate on.

Florian stood in front of the captain, his eyes level with the top of her head. He was used to Laila, however, and knew that size was no indicator of weakness. He opened his mouth to try one more request and received a stinging slap in return.

"Clean him up and find him something suitable to wear. I won't have my new cabin boy fouling my cabin with his stench." She could see the man's blush even under his sunburn. "And have the medic treat his sunburn and those hands."

"Please," Florian dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "Please save them." He lifted his tear streaked face to her but found no understanding in return. She regarded him without pity, then turned and walked away, leaving him on his knees.

XXXXX

"Laila?" Michel tapped lightly on her door, waited for a long minute, then tried the knob. They'd gotten to the stage where they were comfortable in each other's cabins, but this was different, and Michel was worried about stepping over the line and ruining what fragile connection they'd been able to make.

Laila was slumped over the small table, asleep, her head resting on a stack of handwritten notes and maps.

Trying not to wake her, Michel turned down the bedding, not happy to see that the bed hadn't been slept in. He picked Laila up carefully and murmured soothingly to her as he placed her on the bed and tucked her in. She blinked up at him for a moment, not actually awake, smiled absently, and drifted off.

Michel took her place at the table and reviewed her notes and plans, making a few notations himself and putting everything in order. Tomorrow, they'd leave this ship for one of his smaller, less luxurious crafts. And if luck and the weather were with them, they'd meet up with the search vessels in a week.

He checked his watch, noting how late it was, but rather than return to his own room, he settled back in the chair. He'd keep watch over Laila for a little while and hope that someone was watching over Ray and his companions.

XXXXX

It was raining. Solomon huddled under the canopy and glared out at the torrent of water that was preventing him from working on their boat. Beside him, Ray was methodically opening and shelling all of the nuts he'd found the day before.

Thankfully, they had enough water to last for a few hours, and there was a small stack of bananas, some coconut and berries as well as the nuts in case they got hungry. Ray had gathered a supply of wood the previous day, but they were using it sparingly, so it would last.

Ray had developed a cough during the night, and he clearly still had a headache even if he denied it. Thankfully, most of his bruises were fading, so Solomon didn't have to be quite as careful in handling him, but it was the lingering effects from the head injury that had Solomon worried.

Solomon had basic knowledge of first aid, but head injuries were serious and tricky to treat without proper information and supplies. All he could think to do was keep Ray as warm and dry as he could and let him rest - if he could get the stubborn man to listen to reason.

"Damnit!" Ray swore as he miscalculated his aim and smashed his fingers instead of the nut. He threw the rock down and tucked his injured hand under his arm,. He curled in on himself a little, his entire body one line of tension.

Without thinking, Solomon leaned forward and wrapped Ray in his embrace, holding on tight as Ray tried to resist, and then as he gave in and slumped against Solomon, in defeat.

Solomon could feel the other man's anger and frustration. He understood, and to a point, he felt the same way. But Florian was Solomon's friend, not his lover, and so the pain couldn't be as sharp, nor the helpless frustration so overwhelming as it was for Ray.

There were times when he was with Ray and Florian that Solomon felt a stab of jealousy - no matter how they fought, they shared a depth of feeling for each other that Solomon had experienced only once. He'd lost it in a haze of grief and anger after his sister and her husband were murdered, so wrapped up in his own tragedy that he'd cut off all offers of love and sympathy. By the time he'd realized what had happened - and what he'd lost - it was far too late to get it back.

With his mind full of bittersweet memories, Solomon kissed Ray gently on the forehead.

Beyond the canopy, the downpour continued, and the two men watched it in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

"Don't take it personally," Trembly told Florian as he rummaged through the stores to find something that would fit the slender man. There were only three possibilities - two sets of rough garments and a fine suit that the captain had acquired from one of their previous passengers. He handed Florian the suit with a smirk. "You've got bad timing - and you look like an aristocrat. The captain hates aristocrats."

"Why?" Florian asked after thanking Trembly for the clothes. He looked around for somewhere to change in private and found nothing, so he changed right there. He was much less self-conscious about these things after living with Ray. "Is that why she won't search for my friends?"

"I won't be telling tales on the captain, but I will say that she has good reasons to be wary of aristocrats - especially ones that are crazy enough to be sitting on a log in the middle of the ocean." Trembly laughed heartily at Florian's expression and thumped him on the back. "Come on, herself will be waiting, and she's not the patient sort."

Florian winced at the contact - he was sore everywhere, and the ointment the medic had given him had a faint but unpleasant odor of fish. But his personal discomfort meant nothing - he'd endure far more if he could only convince the captain to help Ray and Solomon.

He followed the large man back to the captain's cabin. Trembly knocked on the door and left Florian there with one more thump on the back and a laugh.

"Get in here," the captain barked, and Florian obeyed quickly. He stood just inside the door, his arms loose at his sides and his eyes lowered slightly so as not to appear challenging. He could feel her looking at him, studying him, but he remained as still as he could.

The time stretched on in silence and Florian had too much time to think about the motion of the ship on the water. He would be especially grateful to have some of Laila's magic anti-seasickness elixir right now. He didn't want to antagonize the captain any more by being sick in her cabin.

"For goodness sake man, sit down; you're as green as seaweed." The captain shoved a chair at Florian, and he sat gratefully. He nodded his thanks and kept his mouth closed.

The captain made another impatient sound and walked away. Florian heard the clinking of glass and looked up in time to see the captain returning with a glass holding a small measure of amber liquid.

"Brandy. It'll spare my carpet." She handed him the glass and watched as he drank it all. He handed the empty glass back with a nod of thanks.

"Now then..." She pulled a chair up and sat down close enough to Florian that their knees almost touched. "Let's have the real story on what you were doing out in the middle of the ocean on a log."

Florian condensed several days of fear into five minutes and ended by repeating his plea to find his friends. At the end, he risked lifting his eyes and meeting the captain's gaze. What he saw offered no comfort.

"You spin a pretty tale for an aristocrat. I'll give you that. And you're certainly not as arrogant as most. But I own this ship; it's my pride and my livelihood, and I can't afford to do favors for strangers - especially not those who are convinced they are somehow superior to the rest of us."

She leaned forward and placed a hand on his knee. "You were on your knees earlier. Are you willing to kneel again to prove your sincerity?"

Without hesitation, Florian slid out of his chair and onto his knees. A few years ago, the very idea would have been so unthinkable, he would have laughed. Things were very different now, and he'd learned from experience, and from Ray, that gestures of subservience weren't the same as surrender.

"It looks good on you." She rose and patted his head before adding, "Crawl out there and ask someone to give you a bucket and a scrub brush. You can start by cleaning the floors in here and stop when I tell you. Do what you're told, when you're told, without question or complaint, and I will consider your request."

Florian could feel her watching as he crawled away, setting aside his pride for the sake of his friends.

XXXXX

Ray was restless. He couldn't stand being confined, and he had no tolerance for weakness - especially his own. He'd foolishly promised Solomon to stay at camp and rest, but he had run out of things to do.

A short distance away from their sleeping area, Solomon had piled the oddments he'd recovered from the beach. Most of it was useless - especially now that Ray had removed all the nails from the bits of wood.

The only thing he hadn't bothered with was the trunk. He and Solomon had looked at it briefly the previous day, but it had been so wet and the contents so sodden, that they'd given it up.

But now, with the storm long gone and the mid-day heat, perhaps it was worth another look. At the very least, he could take a look at the rest of the clothing and decide if he should take anything else apart for the fabric.

Item by item, he laid the trunk's contents out on a pile of leaves. Anything usable he'd spread out to dry, and the rest would be stuffed back into the trunk. It was a pity - Florian had an odd fondness for old steamer trunks with all their drawers and hidden compartments.

Ray smiled as he imagined Florian studying this trunk, his amethyst eyes shining with excitement as he spun fanciful tales of hidden treasures, exotic travels and romantic encounters.

Thoughts of Florian cheered him up a little, so Ray set out to examine the trunk exactly how he thought Florian would. He pulled out every last item, right down to the pulpy mass of papers – probably letters and notes – from the very bottom of the main compartment. Then he pulled each drawer out one at a time and set them on the sand.

When the trunk was completely empty, he examined it, feeling along each space, reaching into corners, and peaking behind the soggy, loosened lining. As expected, he found nothing.

Next were the drawers containing mostly useless odds and ends – the kinds of silly things that people packed to travel great distances when they were easy enough to obtain along the way.

Each drawer was emptied, examined, then refilled and returned to the trunk. Nothing. Ray replaced the last drawer, frowning at his strange sense of unease - it felt like he was missing something.

Whatever it was, it wasn't in the dresses, or anything else that had come from the trunk - Ray had examined every item thoroughly. Feeling frustrated and irritated, he was about to close the trunk when he realized what he'd been missing.

Eagerly, he removed one of the middle half-sized drawers, and then the one beside it. On first look they appeared identical. But something...

With a rush of triumph, Ray picked up the one drawer and examined it more closely. He used his hand and then a small stick to verify his suspicion - the drawers were exactly the same size, but the interior of one was more shallow than the other; there was a false bottom.

He pressed and prodded the drawer for a while and even attempted to force it with a bit of broken seashell. He was looking for a better tool when he saw the tiny mark on the underside of the drawer. Using the shell, he pressed the mark hard until there was a click and a secret drawer opened.

Ray reached in excitedly, almost crowing with delight when he retrieved a folded piece of animal hide and a pouch containing a small handful of gems.

The drawer had been so well sealed that the items were merely damp rather than soaked, which meant that when Ray unfolded the animal hide, he could easily tell it was a map.


	8. Chapter 8

The captain leaned back in her chair and took a sip of wine. It was a delicate white that complimented her dinner of grilled fish, and she took her time in savoring it. Across the room, Rochefort was scrubbing away at an accumulation of dirt in the corner. They'd given him a toothbrush for the task, but he'd taken it without complaint and had worked for hours without stopping. He didn't even pause when her meal was delivered, and she made a show of eating it.

Frowning, she set her glass down. She had no patience for self-doubt, especially her own, but perhaps she had been too hard on the stranger. She frowned at the guest chair, where Rochefort had neatly draped the fine linen shirt, the tie, the vest and the jacket. He'd even set the shoes aside and was working only in an old undershirt and the fine trousers. She suspected that he would have stripped down to his undershorts to preserve the trousers too, if she wasn't present. It surprised her that he was so careful of the expensive clothing – the aristocrats she knew spared little effort to care for beautiful and expensive things.

Draining the wine glass, she picked up her plate and carried it to the door, mindful of the still drying areas of the floor. Rochefort had even taken the time to lift the carpet and scrub underneath it where he could.

"Wilkins!" she shouted once she was on deck. "Get our visitor something to eat – some soup and crackers, not fish – and water his ale. He's not the seafaring type." She shared a laugh with her men at the joke.

The captain leaned against the rail and looked back at the island that Rochefort had been so eager to get to. It was nothing more than a receding blur. They'd reach their destination port late this evening if the winds held steady. The cargo could be unloaded at dawn while Trembly took care of purchasing supplies. If they didn't linger, they could reach Rochefort's destination by tomorrow evening.

Irritated by her own weakness in giving in so quickly, she marched forward and found Trembly at the helm.

"If the men sort the cargo now, it'll take less time to unload," he commented after the captain had stood beside him in silence for a few minutes. "Could take a loop around that small island and save some time on the return."

"We could. Or we could find my missing trunk. Any chance those idiots in the brig remember where they buried it?"

"Not so far. One of them forgot there was a trunk."

The captain sighed and looked skyward. Why had she thought being a ship's captain was such great idea? She was still surrounded by idiots, but at least the aristocrats had dressed and smelled better. And she didn't have to eat fish all the time.

"Got to you after all, didn't he?" Trembly asked, laughing at the captain's scowl. "Always were a soft touch. Especially for one like that – loyal, reckless – sounds like someone else I know."

"I was never that helpless," she argued, knowing it wasn't true. She'd been very much like Rochefort a few years ago – adrift, although not literally, and desperate, needing help. But she wouldn't have had the strength to kneel as he had; and while part of her admired him for it, another part of her despised him for it.

"You were fortunate," Trembly reminded her, his usual laughter traded for warmth and fondness. He was the only one on board who knew her story, and he was the only one she trusted to keep it.

"I was. I'll never forget that. It just makes it more important that I find that trunk. I don't have time for charity."

"Who's to say they didn't bury the trunk on that island? You'll have to search it eventually anyway – what difference does it make if you start there? If they can pay, as the boy promised, it's to your advantage to save them."

"I hate it when you're reasonable," she complained, leaning against Trembly for a moment – the gesture as close to a hug as they'd ever get.

"Someone has to be. What good would your hard won reputation as 'Captain Mad, Scourge of the Seas' be if you invited everyone to tea?"

"It could be poisoned tea," she suggested with a wicked grin; they played this word game often.

"And barbed crumpets," he suggested, pure devilment in his eyes. "But then you'd have to fly your pirate flag."

"A pink Jolly Roger with floral skull and crossbones." The captain shook her head sadly – you'd think my crew was trying to keep me legitimate. Interfering do-gooders." She thumped Trembly on the arm for good measure and stomped back to her cabin where the soup and crackers were waiting on her table while Rochefort continued scrubbing the floor. Even in the poor lighting here, she could tell he was pale.

She frowned, watching him for a moment until she realized he was scrubbing an area of floor that he'd already done. She sighed and crossed the room to his side, reaching down to snatch the brush away. The bristles were worn down and all but useless.

"There's soup waiting for you. Wash up in there," she pointed to her private bathroom, "And come eat before you fall over."

Rochefort climbed wearily to his feet, wavering a moment before he went to wash up. When he returned, he silently put on the fine shirt, vest and jacket. He even fixed his tie before taking the seat she indicated. She knew he must be hungry and tired, but he ate as slowly and precisely as if he was at a dinner party.

She watched him in silence until she couldn't stand it any longer – she'd never been very patient.

"If you're in this man's debt, why do you want to rescue him? We'll reach port in a few hours. You could disappear – make a new start." She watched the emotions flicker across Florian's face and decided there was more of interest here than expected.

"Ray saved my life," Rochefort replied softly, his eyes revealing more than his words. "I owe him far more than money. Even if I didn't, I wouldn't abandon him or Solomon."

"Loyalty. What a rare attribute in an aristocrat. You're an aristocrat are you not, Florian du Rochefort?"

"I am the last of my family line, left penniless and in debt. What does it matter if I hold a title? It doesn't buy food or shelter or companionship. Ray has given me all of that and more. What must I do to convince you to help him? Anything you ask – if it is in my power I will do it."

"You've proven you're willing to humble yourself." The captain studied him intently, considering, and then she gave him a cold, calculating smile and asked, "Would you prostitute yourself for him?"

Florian met her gaze steadily, his expression never changing. Without hesitation, he stood and unfastened his tie. He dropped it on the chair, then removed his jacket, vest and shirt. He arranged them as carefully as he had earlier, but this time he didn't stop. He removed his undershirt, revealing ivory pale skin that stood in stark contrast to his sunburned arms, neck and face. He was trembling, but he maintained eye contact as often as he could while he unbuckled his belt and removed his soiled trousers. He draped them across the seat of the chair so as not to soil the rest of the clothing, and then reached for the waistband of his undershorts.

"Leave those for now," the captain snapped, gesturing towards the bed. "Lie down and wait for me. I have to check on my crew and let them know they're not to disturb us."

She watched until Florian climbed into bed and lay down. He held himself stiffly and his expression revealed nothing, but his hands clutched desperately at the coverlet. She walked away without a word, closing the cabin door behind her.

XXXXX

"It's useless!" Ray snapped, tossing the misshapen nail down into the fire. He'd been using a broken shell to pull nails from broken boards, and his hand was sore and bleeding.

Solomon raised his head wearily from his own efforts and gave Ray a sympathetic smile before returning to his task. It was night, and they were working by firelight, neither of them ready for sleep.

Solomon had spent the day working as quickly as he could, fashioning the boat and planning the supplies they would need. Ray was trying his best to help, but he was nowhere near his full strength and was sometimes a hindrance.

The map from the secret compartment in the trunk had proved to be a good diversion for a while - keeping Ray busy trying to determine what it represented. They'd both agreed that it was a treasure map, and they guessed it was showing an island, but they had no way of knowing exactly which island contained the treasure.

After a while, the excitement had faded, and they were back to their original concerns: completing their boat and finding Florian.

They worked until they could no longer keep their eyes open. Only then did they climb into their makeshift bed and fall asleep. The last thing Solomon felt before he drifted off was Ray's arm draping over his.

XXXXX

Florian stared at the ceiling and waited. It was necessary, he told himself, just another thing that had to be done in order to find Ray and Solomon. It wasn't like he had never... Florian shivered and turned onto his side, willing away the memories that still haunted his dreams. So much pain, such mockery of a loving act... If not for Ray he'd probably still be trapped in his own mind, living in an endless hell of pain and blood.

It was Ray's own pain that had finally freed Florian - warm tears thawing his frozen heart. It was Ray's gentle hands that had guided him back and shown him the truth and beauty of love. With patience, Ray had weakened the power of those painful memories. But now, faced with a new form of coercion... Florian shivered again and curled in on himself.

It didn't matter, he told himself, pretending that he wasn't trembling. He'd endure whatever the captain demanded and more if it brought Ray and Solomon safely home.

XXXXX

"You did what?" Trembly demanded, his voice raised enough that he drew curious stares from nearby crew. The captain grabbed his arm and hauled him to the very back of the ship, out of the crew's hearing range.

"I asked him if he'd trade his body for the sake of his friends. I didn't expect him to say yes!" The captain grabbed his arm. "My own family thought nothing of trading my future for a business match - and that's close enough to prostitution as far as I'm concerned. How could he even consider agreeing to my demand?"

"How could you even have asked? He told you he was alone and penniless and this man, Ray, took him - even saved his life. Not everyone is as disloyal as your family. He begged you on his knees to help them; he scrubbed your floor with a toothbrush - how much more do you plan to punish him for the sins of your family? How much do you plan to punish his friends?"

The captain fell back, eyes wide as she stared at her friend. He rarely disagreed with her like this, and it had been a very long time since he'd spoken so harshly to her.

"Let me talk to him," Trembly offered, his voice softer. "I'll tell him you were testing him and that he's passed. We can leave for his island in the morning."

"Yes, talk to him. But I had better come along so he knows it's the truth." She looked as if she wanted to do anything but that. However, it wasn't the first unpleasant task she'd faced as captain, so she straightened her shoulders and strode off towards her cabin, knowing Trembly would be at her heels.

They entered the cabin without speaking and stopped at the sight of Florian curled so tightly in on himself, apparently asleep and having nightmares.

With an unhappy exhalation, the captain sat on the edge of the bed and called Florian's name. She tried twice more, each time a little louder, and finally tried touching his shoulder. The response was immediate - he opened his eyes and flung himself backwards, coming up hard against the far wall. He was trembling violently, and his gaze was fixed on horrors only he could see.

"Florian." It was Trembly's turn to call him, keeping his voice low but firm. "We're going to find Ray."

Hearing Ray's name seemed to reassure the frightened man. He sagged against the wall and blinked, his gaze coming to rest on Trembly and then moving to the captain. Florian paled, but he regained his wits enough to straighten up and return to the bed, lying down as stiffly as before. He looked from one to the other as if wondering who would hurt him first.

"Sleep, Florian," the captain said wearily. "We won't ask anything more of you. We'll start looking for your friends tomorrow." She leaned forward and rested her hand on the bed next to his hand, but far enough away that they didn't touch. "Trembly will stay with you until you fall asleep. No one will touch you."

Florian stared as if he didn't understand her words. She had to look away first, breaking eye contact and leaving the cabin. Florian turned to Trembly, eyes wary. They remained like that until Trembly laughed and broke the tension.

"It was only a test, man. A test. You passed - we'll find your friends."

"Ray and Solomon," Florian supplied helpful, his body already relaxing into the mattress. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but after recent adventures, it felt wonderful. Before long, Florian drifted off to sleep.

Trembly settled into a chair, his legs stretched out with his feet resting on the edge of the bed. He watched over Florian for more than an hour before slipping out of the cabin and going to find the captain. He stood beside her in silence, offering the same steady comfort her visitor had needed. He wondered at the similarities between the two and considered himself lucky to have been born a commoner.

XXXXX

Ray talked in his sleep - not quite raving and not quite a conversation. Mostly it was random words and phrases and frequent mentions of Laila and Florian. Solomon let Ray talk, resting his head on the pillow and staring up at the canopy that offered them a little protection from the weather.

It was times like this - late at night when Ray was restless but not distressed - that Solomon had too much time to think. In the daytime, there were practical matters of food and boats, but now there were persistent questions and doubts.

What had happened to Florian - had he really ended up elsewhere on this island or could he have ended up on an entirely different one nearby? The storm has certainly been strong enough to carry him a distance. Unless it carried him out into open waters and left him, disoriented and exhausted. Or even carried him under and held him there until he lost the battle. What would Ray do then?

It wasn't that he doubted Ray's will and ability to survive at all costs - there was no question that he was a fighter - but without Florian's softening influence, the Black Cat of several years ago would probably return: a bored, reckless man with a soft heart in a shell of arrogance and pride.

Solomon knew both versions of his Black Cat and would pick this newer version without hesitation - Florian was a good influence on Ray.

It was easy enough to see that Ray was just as good an influence on Florian - bringing the real man out from behind the solemn, overly formal facade. Ray's Florian was passionate, funny and fiercely protective of those he cared about - which Solomon had been shocked to realize included himself.

They were both his friends, no matter what the rest of his complicated, messy feelings were. He'd decided long ago to protect them, as individuals and as a couple, no matter what he had to do.

With that in mind, he turned to Ray and gathered the man in his arms, soothing him with his voice and with his touch, until Ray quieted.

The boat was far from perfect, but it was taking shape. Another day, he vowed. One more day - for all of their sakes.

XXXXX

Laila was at the back of the ship, leaning against the rail and looking at the water and the stars. It felt like ages since she'd spent any time on dry land.

They'd left for Australia less than an hour after disembarking from Michel's luxury ship. As he warned, this vessel offered fewer comforts, but it was fast and they were making good time. A few more days and they'd be close enough to meet Michel's other boats and join the search for Ray, Florian and Solomon.

She'd communicated with Michel's staff a few times, but now there was nothing to do but wait. So she stared out into the distance and felt as if she'd never see land again.

"You've been taking brooding lessons from Ray," Michel commented as he joined her, leaning casually on the railing and staring down into the dark water.

"Not true - he learned it all from me." It was a half-hearted joke, but they laughed, needing to release some of the tension they were carrying. Without warning, Michel reached out and grabbed Laila's waist with both hands, twirling her into a lazy circle once. The second time was faster, as was the third, but by the fourth, they were laughing and staggering and practically tripping over each other.

They stopped in a tangle, breathless and watery-eyed from laughing so hard. A moment for recovery and then Michel took up her hand, moving Laila into position and leading her in a waltz. Up and down the deck they danced, humming anything they could think of, whether it was appropriate for a waltz or not.

There weren't many crewmembers on deck, so it was easy to move in broad arcs and overly wide steps. Laila began to sing.

It was in a language Michel wasn't familiar with, and it surprised him that he'd never thought of Laila knowing places and people and even languages from unknown locations. Somehow, she'd always seemed like an extension of Ray - part of his history and his household, sharing much of the same past.

But no, hadn't she proved time and again that no matter how loyal she was to Ray, she was also her own person? Another one of Ray's hidden gems, Michel mused, like Florian. A pretty enough surface, with unexpected depth - treasures without price.

Laila continued to sing, even as Michel guided her back to their starting point, her song fading as he guided her into one final turn and dipped her back over his arm. She reached up and wrapped both arms around his neck as he brought his lips down over hers. The kiss lingered, sweet and with a hint of innocence.

He eased her upright again and pulled her back to her spot by the railing, taking up his place beside her, his arm securely around her shoulders. They watched the water in silence until she gently stepped away.

He let her lead as he escorted her to her cabin, an arm around her shoulders again. They didn't speak, but she hummed her song softly so that words weren't necessary.

When they arrived at her door, she leaned up and drew his head down to her for a kiss. They savored it, moving apart slowly, reluctantly. When she went into the cabin and closed the door, he knew she'd be spending the night in a chair, gazing up through the porthole at the stars. He wondered if she'd sing her song again and wished he had asked her to teach it to him.

It would give him something to do when he was seated in a chair in his own cabin, staring out into the darkness, waiting for the light to return.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a bowl of oatmeal waiting when he awoke; Florian could smell the faint aroma of honey. He surveyed the room without moving until he was sure that he was alone. Only then did he throw back the covers and climb out of bed. There was a set of work clothing similar to what the crew wore draped over the chair where he'd left the fine suit. He dressed quickly and made use of the bathroom, feeling better but still wary when he emerged to find the captain seated at her desk.

"My apologies for imposing, Captain." He gave her a stiff half-bow, not sure what to expect.

"You'd better eat that before it gets cold. The cook gave you a bit of honey to make it more palatable."

Florian sat, nodding his thanks as he took up his spoon. He was hungry, but he ate slowly more for the sake of his stomach than in deference to social niceties. When the bowl was empty, he washed the oatmeal down with half a mug of water.

"We left port an hour ago, headed back towards the island where you believe your friends are stranded. The wind's in our favor, so we should reach it this evening. There's nothing for you to do until we arrive, so you are free to do as you please as long as it doesn't interfere with the work of my crew."

"Thank you," Florian said sincerely. He gathered up his dishes and rose, intending to take them back to the kitchen.

"Leave those. Wilkins will retrieve them soon." The captain looked at him for a moment, considering, before motioning to the sole bookcase. You are welcome to borrow something if you enjoy reading."

"That's very kind of you, Captain. But if there's something I could do? Something that would be of assistance?"

The captain frowned, half in concentration and half in confusion – since when did aristocrats ask for work? Perhaps her family and their associates hadn't been typical after all.

"I don't suppose you're any good at mending?"

"My friend Laila would tell you no, but she can be difficult to please. I have had some practice." He tilted his head and a hint of a smile curved his lips. "I've always believed an adequate mending job is better than an open seam."

"Quite right," the captain agreed, laughing lightly. "Ask Trembly for the sewing basket if you please. You're welcome to work here, but the light will be better on deck as long as your stomach doesn't object."

"One can hope," Florian told her as he nodded his head once and took his leave.

The captain tapped her pen against the desktop and watched him go, still wanting to be annoyed with him, but not bothering to make the effort.

XXXXX

"Interesting," Ray commented as he took in the results of Solomon's craftsmanship. "An unusual design for a boat."

"It's more of a raft," Solomon corrected lightly, most of his attention on the finishing touches. He'd given up the idea of a true boat – there wasn't enough wood or nails and hollowing out a log would be too time consuming and the result too small for two people. Once he'd realized that, the construction of the raft had gone fairly quickly.

Two fallen trees served as the base for the raft with a platform and mast constructed of salvaged wood. He'd wanted to add a rudder too, but had settled for just oars. It would be tricky navigating the small, light craft, but they were planning on following the coastline, so he hoped it wouldn't be too difficult.

When they set sail, they'd take a supply of food and water along as well as their important items – personal items and the map and jewelry case. They would extinguish the fire as a safety precaution, but the rest of the camp – the bed and canopy and trunk, would be left as they were. No sense in disassembling them – even if they didn't need to use them again, someone else might need them.

It would be futile trying to convince Ray to remain behind – Solomon didn't even waste the effort. Instead, he compromised with himself and dragged out the final touches on the raft, buying one more night in their camp. Ray wasn't happy about it, but he didn't put up too much of an argument either. He still wasn't back up to full strength, and the extra night's rest was needed.

"We missed our chance," Ray said as he examined the trunk and its contents one last time. "We could have saved a lot of time and used this as a one-man boat." He was giving Solomon a mild look with one eyebrow slightly raised to indicate teasing. Solomon took the bait, falling easily into their familiar pattern of banter. It felt almost normal, this exchange of friendly jibes.

For the first time in days, he really felt as if everything would be okay.

XXXXX

"You've done them all?" The captain regarded the neatly folded stack of clothes inside the hamper as if it were an exotic creature. It contained several months' worth of the crews damaged garments – repairing them was a task that would usually take weeks to complete - mostly because she had to force people to do it - and none of her crew had any skill at mending.

She picked up a pair of her own socks from the top of the pile and looked for the hole near the big toe. Instead, she found a neat row of tiny, mostly even stitches. She returned them and examined a few other items – one of Trembly's shirts that had had a jagged tear at the hem, a pair of Wilkin's pants with a split seam - they were all neatly repaired.

"You've done a good day's work," the captain assured him. "Care to join me in my cabin for some dinner? We won't reach your island until late, so the search won't start until morning."

Florian stood slowly, his body stiff from so many hours in one position. It had been a long day of waiting, but at least the mending had given him something to occupy his hands, even if his mind was elsewhere.

There was a generous portion of stew for each of them and some thick slices of bread that they'd picked up in port the previous evening. The captain made an effort to keep up a light conversation, and Florian played along, asking about favorite books and music. It was a bit surprising to the captain to realize how easily she fell back into the old pattern of social niceties.

When the meal was finished, they visited Trembly for a status report. The conversation flowed easily as they shared stories of previous journeys interspersed with some amusing sea adventures they'd read in the penny dreadfuls. It was a pleasant enough way to pass the time until their island was sighted.

The captain stood back and let her crew do most of the work while she occasionally called out a command. Florian stood at the front of the ship, trying to stay out of the way while straining to see something - anything that might be a sign of his friends.

"You won't see anything tonight, lad," Trembly told him kindly. The captain's asked me to set up a place for you to sleep - would you want it inside in the crew quarters or out here? He grinned as he asked the question, already certain of the answer.

"Here, if there would be somewhere out of the way," Florian looked around and saw a thin mattress already laid out in a small niche. "I believe you answered your own question." He gave Trembly a warm smile and settled in gratefully. He didn't expect to sleep much - he was too anxious, and Ray was too close. But eventually the activity on the ship calmed, and he drifted off.

XXXXX

The day dawned clear and cool. Ray and Solomon ate a quick breakfast then doused the fire. They pushed the raft out onto the water and started their search for Florian, the calm water and pleasant morning helping them feel optimistic.

They started slowly, learning how to navigate the raft and being careful to keep close to the shore. They strained their eyes searching for any indicators that Florian was there. They'd navigated up to the rocky reef that extended out into the water and were making their way around it when Ray called out.

"There's a ship." He studied it for a few minutes, trying to decide if it was likely to be a friend or a foe.

"Even if they are pirates," Solomon said with a rueful laugh, "They can't get much out of us. Unless they have a fondness for berries and nuts."

They held back, watching until a lifeboat was lowered from the side of the ship.


	10. Chapter 10

"Well, no sense in delaying." Ray gave Solomon a grin, and they continued on their way, knowing they'd be seen by those on the ship very soon if they hadn't been spotted already.

"Ahoy," Solomon called once it was clear that the small boat was headed towards them. He waved and turned back to Ray, returning Ray's cocky grin. "Let the fun begin."

Ray laughed and took up his oar, helping Solomon to navigate towards the dinghy. It seemed to take the small craft a long time to reach them, but well before that, their rescuers called out to them by name.

"Greetings gentlemen," the larger of the two sailors called as he maneuvered the boat alongside the raft. "Would you be acquaintances of Florian di Rochefort? He was very persistent in convincing our captain to search for you." He neatly caught the vine Ray had twined into a towline and used it to close the gap between the two crafts. "Trembly's the name, and this is Davidson. Steady there."

"We are indeed," Solomon assured them, speaking quickly before Ray did. He pressed a hand against Ray's arm, urging caution. Normally it wouldn't be a concern, but these weren't normal circumstances.

Solomon insisted Ray get into the boat first and then helped to steady him until he was seated. Grabbing their meager assortment of belongings and supplies, Solomon handed them to Davidson before climbing into the boat himself.

"What about the raft?" Solomon asked.

"We'll take it along. No sense wasting your hard work." Trembly handed the towline to Davidson who fastened it to the back of the boat. They made it back to the anchored boat in good time, although Ray's impatience made it seem longer.

Davidson scrambled up the ladder first, jumping down onto the deck and moving aside to let other crew members give Ray a hand up. Although he was doing his best to pretend he was fine, he wasn't really convincing anyone.

Florian had been waiting to the side with the captain, but as soon as Ray's feet touched the deck, he surged forward and took hold of his arms, guiding him gently aside and surveying him for injuries.

"Got lost again," Ray teased, his voice rough from illness, the sea air and repressed emotion. If they were alone, rather than standing in a group of strangers, their reunion would have been much more passionate. Instead, they held on to each other as closely as decorum allowed.

"Solomon!" Florian released Ray long enough to greet his friend, but quickly returned to Ray. "You're not injured?"

"I'm fine, Florian, just a bit of sunburn. How are you?"

"All the better for your return. Both of you. I thought-" he choked on the rest of the sentence and had to shake his head rather than finish. After clearing his throat several times he said, "Allow me to introduce you to the captain. She and her crew have been very kind."

"Ray. Solomon." The captain shook their hands in turn, then motioned towards the crewman who had been standing nearby with mugs of ale. "A small drink now, and a chance to rest if you'd like. We'll share a meal in my cabin once you've rested." She nodded and walked away, leaving Trembly to take charge of the new arrivals.

"Ray?" Florian was holding his arm tightly, peering at his face in alarm. He'd only seen Ray so pale and his eyes so unfocused once before – and that was at the beginning of a long and terrifying illness. He turned to Trembly. "He needs a medic. Could you…?"

"Of course. This way." Trembly led them down into the ship where the medic was busy tending a man who'd gotten a bad rope burn. He finished with the man and dismissed him, and then turned his attention to Ray.

"Get him up on the bunk before he falls over." He poked and prodded Ray in random places, noting the partially-healed injuries from the shipwreck. It was when he got to the bump on Ray's head that he paused. "Bumped your head, did you? And then you didn't have the good sense to rest up and heal. Like the rest of these boys – stubborn sods. No, don't sit up yet – I'm going to give you something to help with that headache. Probably wouldn't refuse something for the stomach either, I'd wager."

The medic turned to Solomon and surveyed him from head to toe before clomping off to get the promised medicine. Florian took the opportunity to take Ray's hand.

"Don't fuss," Ray grumbled. "I can't stand it."

"Unless it's you doing the fussing," Florian teased. He brushed Ray's hair back from his forehead and frowned. "You're warm. " He looked up at the medic who was returning with the medicine. "Does he have a fever?"

"A slight fever, nothing to worry about. This will settle it along with his head. This other is for the stomach – same stuff I gave you. Need another dose?"

Florian wanted to refuse, but both Solomon and Ray were giving him warning looks, so he just nodded and accepted his portion after Ray took his.

"Get up on deck for a while. The air will do you good. And you," he poked at Solomon, "take it easy. I've got enough patients at the moment." He waved them away.

"Captain's waiting," Wilkins told them once they arrived on deck. Trembly returned to his duties, letting Florian lead his friends to the captain's cabin.

"Gentlemen," the captain motioned for them to join her at the small table in the corner where a meal of ham and potatoes followed by apple tart had been laid out for them – a treat after days of fish and fruit. There was a nice red wine to go with it, and they finished the bottle as they dined and started another as they lingered at the table afterwards.

Conversation during the meal had been kept light – weather, location, travel – simple topics that wouldn't cause any undue upset. But once the captain had signaled Wilkins to clear away the dishes, she took control.

"Perhaps you gentlemen will tell me," she said with deceptive mildness, "How you came to make a sail out of my dress?"

"What?" Florian asked, confused. Beside him, Ray and Solomon exchanged glances.

"Apparently Madeline Pennington wasn't lost at sea after all," Ray said as he leaned forward and extended his hand. She took it with a cold smile.

"Madeline Pennington was lost well before that ill-fated voyage," she assured them. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is for a woman, even an aristocrat, to become a pirate? It took years to make the arrangements."

"But your family?" Florian could not imagine wanting to leave family behind. But then he remembered those terrible days, when he turned to his aunt and uncle for help after his mother's death, only to discover that they had been the ones to murder her and frame him for it. They'd been ready to kill him too, all for the sake of the fabled family diamond. In the end, the diamond killed them, leaving Florian without family, except for a few distant cousins.

He felt a light touch on his arm and looked down to see Ray's hand resting there. He looked up into Ray's eyes and offered him a smile. He had a different family now – Ray and Laila, little Noel, and even Solomon. Florian gave Solomon a smile too, before returning his attention to the captain.

"My family has other concerns," she said, ignoring Florian's breech in manners. She'd tried to leave that judgmental, disapproving life far behind. Her crew might not be the best, and they certainly weren't the smartest, but they were hers, and they were loyal to her in their own way.

"So, about that dress. The fact that you found it and know my name suggests that you found my trunk."

"We did. It was washed up on the shore like we had been. I regret to say that we deconstructed two of the dresses to make a canopy and blanket as well as the sail." Solomon acted as spokesman - Ray had gotten quiet as the meal progressed, and it seemed as if he had used up all his reserves of energy. Solomon hoped he could end this soon so Ray could rest.

"It's not the dresses I'm interested in. Can't exactly flounce around on deck like a dizzy aristocrat if I want to be taken seriously as a captain." The captain leaned forward into Solomon's personal space. "I need other things from the trunk. Things that you might have found?"

"There was a jewelry case," Solomon offered, keeping eye contact with the captain. He had a suspicion that Ray wasn't in a hurry to offer any information about the gems or the map they'd found in the secret compartment.

"Let me see it?" Madeline Pennington had mastered the art of smiling sweetly when she was at her most venomous. It had been a basic survival skill among her peers. As a ship captain and aspiring pirate, it was somewhat less effective. But these were aristocrats - at least Florian and Courland were, and Sugar clearly spent enough time around them that he understood.

"It was with our belongings. I believe your crewmen left them on deck when we went to see the medic. Shall I get it?"

"No need to trouble yourself. I'll get it." She left without waiting for objections; not that she would have listened to any regardless. Her intent was clear, and she wanted them to know it: every one of their belongings would be searched. The only possibility for concealing anything was if it was on their person.

Fortunately, that was exactly where the map and small pouch of gems were - in the secret pocket of Ray's jacket.

Neither men mentioned the items to Florian - Captain Madeline Pennington was an unknown, and not to be trusted and they couldn't risk her or one of her crew overhearing their conversation.

While they waited for the captain's return, Ray took the opportunity to pull Florian close and press a kiss against his ear. Beneath the layer of salt he smelled like Florian. Ray breathed him in, letting his body rest against Florian's. He wished they were alone in their rented house in Australia - better yet, he wished they were home in Paris where there was no need to worry about proper behavior.

Ray really, really wanted to be improper right now. He'd even let Solomon stay if he wanted to.

Florian's cool hand rested against Ray's left cheek, and Ray closed his eyes and leaned into the contact. He opened his eyes and closed them again, more slowly this time.

"Ray?" Florian sounded concerned, but Ray couldn't work up the energy to respond. He shifted more fully into the contact.

"Ray!" It was Solomon this time - and Ray felt his familiar grip on his upper arms, shaking him gently. "Wake up, Ray. You're upsetting Florian. Hang on just a little longer. When the captain returns I'll ask her if there's somewhere you can rest."

They waited in silence until the captain returned a few minutes later. She carried the jewelry case and wore a very unhappy expression.

"This is all you found?" she demanded, setting the case down on the table.

"It was." Solomon looked at Ray, who was leaning against Florian. "I'd be glad to show you the trunk if you'd like - we probably missed whatever you're looking for. But Ray needs to stay here and rest."

"I'll stay with him," Florian offered quickly.

The captain studied the two men, frowning as she weighed her options. She wasn't worried about the safety of her ship - there was no way those two men could overtake her crew.

"Fair enough. You might as well use my bed again Florian."

It was a casual comment, with no apparent hidden meaning, but the words stuck in Ray's mind even as he allowed Florian to fuss over him.

XXXXX

"Where is it?" The captain demanded, standing in the center of Solomon and Ray's recently abandoned camp and scowling.

"It was right there," Solomon insisted. "There's still an impression in the sand." He pointed out the rectangular depression in the sand where something heavy had been sitting. There were footprints all through the camp, but it was hard to tell which prints belonged to Ray and Solomon, and which prints might belong to someone else. Only the captain's prints were distinctive - she had small feet.

"There's the canopy and the bed. There's the campfire we used. There's a pile of shell fragments over there that we used to scrape scales off of the fish we caught." Solomon pointed out all of the signs of their camp, trying to gauge the captain's feelings. She was clearly displeased to find the trunk missing, but could he convince her that they hadn't taken it? "Why would I lie about any of this? We had the trunk - you recognized the fabric. In all the time we were here, Ray and I never saw another person. If we had, we would have asked them for help."

She still didn't look convinced, but Solomon didn't know what else to say to make her believe him. Instead, he gathered the various pieces of her dress, but she stopped him with a sharp, "Leave it."

She turned and walked away, demanding that he show her where the trunk had been found. He hurried after her, suddenly very aware of Trembly following closely at his heels.

Until they were safely back in Australia, they had to do everything they could to avoid challenging the captain. Solomon knew that Ray wouldn't want to hand over the map - especially since they had no idea what it led to, but it wasn't worth their safety. Unfortunately, there wouldn't be any way to discuss this with Ray. Even if they could find somewhere away from the ears of the captain and crew, it would be much harder to get away from Florian. And Solomon didn't want Florian involved any more than Ray would.

"Where was it?" the captain snapped as Solomon joined her in looking at a debris-strewn area of beach that showed a lot of footprints.

"It was either here or the next spot just a short distance up the beach," Solomon pointed in the direction where he had walked that first day after being stranded. Solomon thought he would exactly where he'd found the trunk, but it looked different now, especially since a lot of the debris had been moved while he was building the raft.

They examined both places, the captain and Trembly kneeling to study sections of sand that didn't look any different than the rest to Solomon. He found a convenient rock and waited. He hadn't realized how tired he was until now.

"Back to the ship," the captain ordered after a length of fruitless searching. "We'll circle the island and see if there are any other ships. If we don't find anything, we'll have to send out search teams."

Solomon stood, every part of his body begging for rest. He trudged back to the boat and climbed in, reminding himself that he had to stay alert.

He wondered how accurate the captain was when she called herself a pirate. Solomon had met a few over the years, and while they'd been rough-mannered and short tempered, they'd also been fair minded. He hoped Madeline Pennington proved to be the same.

XXXXX

As desperately as Florian wanted to crawl into bed beside Ray, he was too aware of their surroundings. He and Ray had always been careful of their behavior in public, and this situation required them to be even more circumspect.

Florian had no intention of telling Ray about the captain's test. She hadn't actually forced him to do anything, but just knowing that she had suggested it would upset Ray. Ever since their trip to Morocco, Ray had been very protective. When Florian had been kissed by an old acquaintance at a party, Ray had been barely civil to her for the rest of the evening.

They simply couldn't risk doing anything to upset the captain until they were safely back in Australia. Usually Ray was the master of subtle displeasure, but when he was ill, he was more likely to say or do something that had Florian scrambling to cover for him.

Among the Paris aristocracy, a gaff was embarrassing but fixable. Florian didn't feel the same kind of surety here.

With a sigh, he leaned over Ray and brushed the sweat-damp hair from his forehead. Taking up the wash cloth, he wrung it out and ran it lightly over Ray's face ending at Ray's mouth. He pressed the wet cloth lightly against Ray's lips. It was the closest he dared come to a tender kiss.


	11. Chapter 11

The captain stormed into her cabin with Trembly and Solomon in her wake. Their arrival startled Florian out of his doze, and he sat up so quickly his vision blurred for a moment. Thankfully, Ray still appeared to be deeply asleep. Florian wondered if Ray was that ill or if the medicine he'd been given contained a sleep aid.

"Find somewhere else for him to sleep," the captain demanded, waving towards Ray. "I need privacy."

Trembly nodded once, leaving a worried Florian and a weary Solomon behind. Florian leaned down to wake Ray, but Solomon stopped him.

"Let him sleep while he can. He hasn't had much rest since we were shipwrecked."

"You look like you could use some sleep yourself," Florian commented mildly as he guided Solomon to the chair he had just vacated. When Solomon was seated, Florian asked what had happened, careful to keep his voice low.

"The trunk wasn't there, and there was no sign of where it had been taken, or by whom."

"No wonder the captain is so upset. What happens now?"

"I'll tell you what happens now," the captain snarled as she stood up and tossed her pen down onto the desk. "We find whoever took my trunk and get it back. And until it's found, you three can consider yourselves my guests."

Florian exchanged looks with Solomon, then looked away before his expression gave anything away. Solomon was much too good at reading other people, and Florian didn't want to give him any reason to suspect what had happened between him and the captain.

"And since you'll be staying a while, you might as well make yourselves useful. I'll have Mr. Trembly find you accommodations and a suitable list of tasks."

Solomon looked up curiously but Florian looked down at his hands. Neither man voiced any objection to the captain's plan. They sat in silence until Trembly returned. Florian leaned over Ray and woke him as gently as he could, making sure to stay close so that he could remind him of where they were before Ray might say anything to upset the captain.

"We're on a ship, Ray. Remember the captain rescued us from the shipwreck?" Florian spoke calmly and quickly. He took Ray's hand and squeezed it gently to help focus Ray's attention. This wasn't the first time they'd done this, but it was usually Florian on the bed and Ray at his side.

"Can he walk or do we need to carry him?" Trembly asked, moving to Florian's side so Ray could see him.

"I can walk," Ray insisted, and oddly, Florian didn't object. He helped Ray sit up and kept a hand on his shoulder for a moment until Ray oriented himself and was able to stand. Solomon moved to stand on Ray's other side, and he and Florian served as watchful escort to Ray as the three men took their leave of the captain and followed Trembly down into a small room that was obviously used for storage. Three pallets had been arranged among the supplies.

"Cook could use some help with dinner if one of you is willing, and there's always cleaning and polishing to be done." Trembly gave them an apologetic shrug. "It may take me a while to gather the cleaning supplies, so if you'd like to have a rest - I'll bring the things to you in a couple of hours."

"Sir?" Florian stepped forward urgently. "Some water, if you could spare it? His fever..."

"I'll send Wilkins down with some, and a few rags you can use. See the medic if you need more medicine." Trembly accepted their thanks and left - allowing the men a moment of privacy. Florian busied himself fussing over Ray and seemed to get more upset when Ray didn't protest. The only time Ray objected was when Florian tried to remove his jacket.

"I don't care about what you're hiding," Florian hissed. "Give me the jacket and I'll put it out of sight."

Solomon raised his eyebrows and gave Ray a look - the man had been determined to keep the map hidden, but obviously Florian knew him better than Ray realized.

"And no, I'm not a fool - I didn't touch it. Why do you think I didn't take your jacket off when we were in the captain's quarters?"

Ray hadn't even given the matter a thought - which was an indicator of how ill he was. He still felt terrible, even with the medicine and the nap, and being in the stuffy storeroom wasn't going to make things much better.

"We'll take a walk on deck in a while," Solomon promised as he took a seat on the pallet farthest from Ray's. "But now, I really could use a rest."

"Of course," Florian said soothingly. "Both of you can rest. I'll stay awake in case our hosts need anything." He gave them both a warning look to let them know he wasn't going to accept any arguments.

Solomon gave in with a laugh. Better to rest while he could. Who knew what he'd be dragged into next.

Ray glared at him for agreeing so easily, and then glared at Florian on general principle. Then he settled back onto the thin mattress and fell asleep.

With a sense of satisfaction, Florian crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. He wasn't smart or clever like Ray and Solomon, but he had a few ideas of his own about getting off this ship.

XXXXX

Edward Bartholomew hated sand, despised saltwater and was antagonistic towards the very idea of sailing. He'd wanted to be an accountant.

The day his father sat him down to explain the finer points of the family's finances, he'd known his dream of ledgers and neatly written columns of numbers was forever out of his reach. Instead, he'd been apprenticed to a friend of a friend of his father's.

After living on an island all his life - no matter that it was one as big as Australia - it seemed as if it was inevitable that he'd end up in the shipping trade. So he'd learned to tolerate sailing, and sand, but he still despised the seawater residue that clung to his skin all the time, even all these years later when he had worked his way up to the shipping office and finally become the head agent for Count Michel Courland.

The association was good for a few things beyond the steady paycheck and the necessity of staying on land. He'd be treated to a free dinner or two when the count was visiting, and he'd get the occasional night out with friends where they plied him with drinks in exchange for gossip about the count. It wasn't accountancy, but it was a reasonable compromise.

Except, when something like this happened to throw off his neatly ordered world. It was bad enough that he'd been bullied by the count's cousin into letting him use the count's personal yacht. But then the storm came up unexpectedly, and the count's cousin didn't return.

Edward had waited the designated time and then contacted the harbor master, asking for assistance; the man hated him, Edward was sure of it. The harbor master had told him to contact Count Courland and walked away, leaving Edward with three missing passengers, a missing yacht and a very unpleasant message to deliver.

All things considered, Count Michel Courland had taken the news well. It was his assistant - that Laila person - that was driving Edward to drink. He certainly wasn't looking forward to her arrival tomorrow. Especially not with this bit of information that he'd just received.

He stared down at the words on the paper - such a short message, but such a troubling one. They had found the count's yacht - or what was left of it. It had suffered significant damage. But the worst of it was where it had been found - clearly it had been drifting, but even with a generous estimate of its location when the storm hit, it still meant that the ship had been far away from land. It would be a surprise if any of the passengers had survived.

The count and this Laila would be arriving tomorrow. More than anything, Edward Bartholomew hated to be the bearer of bad news.

XXXXX

The captain was having a drink. In fact, this was her third drink, but she didn't plan on sharing that bit of information with anyone, not even Trembly who had just entered to ask her a question.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with them, Trembly," she told him with a laugh. She hadn't been in this kind of mood for a very long time, and she didn't feel like justifying herself to anyone.

"As long as you don't threaten them like you did the lad. It's not often that I question your actions, but I'd question you if you ever pull that again. Seems to me it came close to giving away secrets for both of you."

"You know all of Madeline Pennington's secrets, Trembly. But Florian... I don't need or want to know what put that expression on his face." She shivered and drained her glass, her eyes focused on distant memories. "Seems possible that he was even less lucky than I was."

"Perhaps. I'd wager a bottle or two that part of his reason for today's rescue was to pay back a favor."

"I think about it some nights, when we're in the middle of the ocean and everything's calm - what I'd have done if you hadn't... been there."

"I'll always be there. You just need to stop being so stubborn and accept that."

"I've always been stubborn," she reminded him, picking up the bottle and waving it at him. "Sit down already. Our passengers are all tucked in and could probably use some quiet. Let them alone for a while."

"The one's ill. The medic says he needs rest and quiet; I don't think an uncomfortable pallet in a poorly ventilated storage room is what he intended. Is there a reason you won't take them back to Australia? We can search for the trunk without them."

"Until I know who took the trunk, everyone's a suspect. It's just a bit too convenient that they leave it at their campsite this morning and a few hours later it's gone when they insist they had no contact with anyone while on the island."

"It's beginning to sound like you know who took that trunk."

"I don't know anything at the moment, but I have a suspicion. And if that suspicion proves to be correct, I'll need all the leverage I can get. Our unlucky guests include two members of the French aristocracy. Surely someone will want them back - for a price."

"And if your suspicion is not correct?"

"Then I owe our guests an apology and a prompt return to the destination of their choice. The question is - how long can we hold them? Florian won't be a problem, but that Solomon is sharp - too sharp to be an aristocrat. The count's not in top form at the moment, but he's likely to be the most trouble. I recognize his type."

"Interesting," Trembly commented mildly, "I'd have pegged Florian as the one to watch. A man that willing to sacrifice himself is a man without much to lose."

The captain's eyes strayed to the rumpled bed, bringing back the memory of the pale blond lying almost naked against the dark sheets because of her command. She'd never forget the terror in his expression when he awoke to find her and Trembly in the room, or the horrifying realization that she'd caused that terror. She hadn't touched the man, but she felt unclean - as if she'd actually done what she'd threatened to do.

Her hand was shaking as she poured a measure from a new bottle. Trembly reached out and plucked the glass out of her grasp, draining it himself. From his expression she could tell that he was having similar thoughts.

"You're right," she agreed at last. "We need to take them home."

XXXXX

Gilbert Abernathy was not a patient man. He paced the deck of his ship like a man on a mission even when there was no mission.

Now, however, there was not only a mission, but also a plan - a brilliant plan, even if he did say so himself - and it was already in motion.

Gilbert had never been one for waiting - if he wanted something to happen, he made it happen. And if he couldn't make it happen, he made people hurt. A little pain and humiliation was always good for an evening's entertainment.

The trunk was in the center of his cabin, stripped of every secret, yet all he had to show for it was some soggy paper, old clothing, and a cheap hatpin.

His men were going to have a very long evening.

Unless... Gilbert stopped his pacing and turned to his first officer, bellowing his name although he was only a short distance away.

"Caruthers!"

"Aye, captain." Caruthers answered smartly, snapping to attention.

"That communiqué we had about the missing yacht and its three passengers. Who was the contact?"

"Edward Bartholomew with Courland Shipping, sir."

"Excellent." Gilbert's lips curled into a frightful smile. Bartholomew was an officious little twitch, the very kind of person Gilbert enjoyed toying with. "Send them a message. Tell them two of their missing men have been taken prisoner by pirates and are currently being held aboard the 'Bad Penny.' Make sure you include the Penny's current location."

"Aye, sir." As Caruthers hastened away to follow orders, Gilbert stood at the helm of his ship, enjoying the feel of power. The slightest movement of his hands could change the course of this ship. The smallest manipulation of people and events could change a person's life.

Wasn't that delightful?

XXXXX

Edward Bartholomew didn't want to be responsible for this. He stared down at the communiqué, frowning. He felt, as he often did, that he was in the middle of a chess game - a pawn surrounded by more powerful pieces. Edward hated chess.

Count Michel would be here tomorrow. If this was true - if the missing men were prisoners of pirates, Edward didn't fancy his chances of continued employment.

It was the thought of having to get back on a boat again - facing all that sand, wind and saltwater that convinced him to give the order in the absence of anyone with more authority: Ready a ship.

Preparations could be drawn out, delaying departure until morning. With any luck, the ship would still be close to port when the count arrived. If he agreed with the order, Edward would be praised for taking action. If the count disagreed, the order would be easily rescinded. Either way, Edward intended to stay as far away from the rescue mission as he possibly could.

XXXXX

After a long afternoon spent napping in the stuffy storage room, Ray, Florian and Solomon were welcomed on deck for some dinner and some fresh air. The mood of the crew, and especially the captain seemed to have shifted, and they were very glad to hear that they'd be returning to Australia starting first thing in the morning. The trip would take hours, but they could expect to be in port by dinnertime.

Once the meal was over, the captain retreated to her cabin. Soon after, Solomon convinced Davidson to play them a tune on his harmonica. That led to singing and storytelling and eventually led to the sharing of a generous amount of rum.

Solomon told a very edited version of his encounter with Louise Tassel, little Noel's step-mother, who had forced her husband to steal money from his bank and use it to buy gems. Florian had added his part about trying to rescue Noel and his father, glossed over his capture and concluded with a dramatic recount of Ray's arrival on the Eiffel Tower and their daring escape on an airship.

The sailors returned the favor with tales and songs until Trembly stepped in, sending some men to their bunks to sleep off the drink, and ordering others to report to their stations.

Ray, Florian and Solomon were preparing to return to their assigned room when a cry stopped them. A ship had been sighted at the far edge of the island.

Trembly went to alert the captain while the remaining crew still on deck speculated that it might be someone coming to collect their guests. Ray, Solomon and Florian found a relatively out of the way spot where they could stand and watch the proceedings. There was no sense in retiring to bed if they were going to be changing ships shortly.

The captain and Trembly returned and an attempt was made to hail the ship, but there was no response. The ship seemed to be flying the French flag, a fact that was confirmed as it drew closer.

Trembly ordered another attempt at contacting them just as the first canon sounded.

"Damn it!" The captain swore as she clung to the rope she'd managed to grab to remain upright. "Return fire, now! I don't care if you throw things by hand, but start throwing!"

In their spot, Ray, Solomon and Florian exchanged worried looks. They had no intention of retreating below deck, but they didn't exactly want to be unshielded and unarmed if it came to actually being boarded.

Trembly was snapping orders while the captain retreated to her cabin, only to emerge a few minutes later with a pair of pistols and an assortment of knives all ticked into various parts of her outfit.

She stopped on her way past her three passengers and tossed two knives in their direction. Ray and Solomon caught them deftly, changing positions to shield an unhappy Florian.

The other ship was larger and better armed, and they had the advantage of being prepared. The captain did her best to return fire, but it was a losing effort. Before long, the other ship was close enough for the grappling hooks.

She caught a glimpse of her passengers preparing to fight and considered sending them below. She dismissed it as a futile effort and let them stay.

A moment later, the first wave of invaders arrived and there was no time to worry about the passengers. There was no time to worry about her crew either. There wasn't even time to worry about herself. Because there, standing on the deck of _her_ ship, large as life, was Gilbert Abernathy, her fiancé.

Gilbert Abernathy, the man that Madeline Pennington had vowed to kill.


	12. Chapter 12

"Maddy, my dear. How lovely to see you." Gilbert Abernathy strode forward, pistol still in hand as his men fell into formation covering the rest of the people on deck. A second and third team made their way below deck to contain the rest of Madeline's crew.

"Gil, how perfectly dreadful to see you. And on my ship. I'll have to scrub the deck with bleach for weeks just to get out the stench."

"Still as charming as ever, my dear. Alas, you continue to be useful - for the moment - so you'll have to be allowed to live. I hope to remedy that in the near future."

"I wouldn't make too many plans, Gil darling. I understand that vipers have rather short lives."

"Ah there's the sweetness I missed." Gill reached out and gripped Madeline's chin, holding her in place as he leaned in for a sloppy kiss. She sputtered and flailed as much as she could with the mast at her back and Gil's men holding weapons on her from all sides.

Gill pulled back slowly, licking his lips lasciviously as he made a show of eyeing her up and down.

"Sea life has done you good, Maddy. You've lost that unattractive extra weight. He ran a hand down her side, squeezing her assessingly. "Or could it be that you've finally learned the value of a well-cinched corset?"

"I learned many things since you've seen me last, Gil. None of which have anything to do with making myself more attractive to the likes of you."

"Come now, Maddy, don't be bitter. You know how I dislike that. After all, we did discuss it at some length the last time we were together." Gil leaned in very, very close and whispered something in her ear, too low for anyone else to hear. He followed the words with his tongue, making her cringe, but there was nowhere for her to retreat.

"Now, now, dear, sweet Maddy. I may as well revisit your charms before I leave. After all, it took some effort to retrieve your precious trunk, and all I have to show for my labor are a few bits of cheap clothing and useless wads of paper." He leaned back just a little, returning his pistol to its holster and retrieving his knife. He flashed the blade at her, making sure she saw and recognized it before lowering it to her blouse and neatly slicing it open.

Madeline Pennington was furious: – not only was this… this creature touching her again – something she had vowed would never happen – but he was humiliating her in front of her crew, his crew and the three passengers. And here she was, trapped and defenseless – again. No matter what happened next, no matter how vile the things she had to endure, she promised herself that she would watch Gilbert Abernathy die.

The promise gave her strength, and she raised her eyes, no longer hiding them in shame. Whatever he did to her, he'd have to do it while looking into her eyes.

Even the feel of his hand on her breast didn't shake her resolve. The old Madeline Pennington might have been shamed and humiliated and forced to leave her home, but the captain of the Bad Penny was a very different woman.

"What a wanton you've become, little Maddy. With one flick of my knife I could leave you bare breasted in front of all these men and yet you're not even blushing. Perhaps I should strip you entirely – I'm sure your men would appreciate such a different view of their captain."

"Leave her alone!" A red-faced and furious Florian demanded as he broke away from his captors and pushed himself between Madeline and Gil. Ray and Solomon tried to stop him, but Ray was weak and easily subdued, and Solomon found himself facing twice as many armed men. He raised his arms in surrender and held himself still, watching carefully for an opportunity to help Florian.

"Is this your latest tidbit, Maddy dear? Isn't he a bit young for you?" Gil took a half-step back to get a better look at his new adversary, but he didn't relax his hold on his knife. From the looks of this one, he'd be as easily damaged as Madeline.

"Let me guess, boy. You're a pretty little aristocrat who fancies a bit of excitement. You find Maddy here, who's attractive enough and disobedient enough to make things interesting. What did you do? Offer her handfuls of money in the hopes that you could bed her?" Gil dragged his eyes down Florian's body slowly before returning to hold his gaze. With his free hand he casually reached down and squeezed Florian's genitals. "Or perhaps you have other preferences, boy."

Gil's men laughed as if that was the funniest joke they'd ever heard, but Florian didn't waver. He calmly made a fist and punched Gil as hard as he could.

"I do not allow low-class vermin to touch me," Florian said calmly as he neatly deflected Gil's wild knife swipe. He'd learned a thing or two about basic self-defense since coming to live with Ray, although he tended not to use it until pressed.

An angry murmur started among Gil's men, but the man ordered them to stay back. "Mind your charges," he ordered. "This one is mine."

Florian felt Madeline shifting out from behind him and tried to move to protect her, but had to dodge another knife thrust. He kicked out as Ray had taught him and lunged sideways, catching Gil's free arm and twisting it. But the man had had a lot more practice than Florian, and he was used to fighting dirty. With movements too fast for Florian to follow, Gil managed to get him down on the deck, pinned face down with a foot on his back. Gil's hands were on Madeline – one on her shoulder and the other holding the knife to her throat.

"Stay there, pretty boy, or watch her die." As if to prove his intent, Gil ran the tip of the knife down Madeline's chest leaving a thin line of blood. He looked down at Florian and smiled cruelly, stepping down harder on Florian's back as he returned the blade to Madeline's throat and pinned her left arm with his free hand. With an animal-like growl, Gil leaned forward and sank his teeth into the top of Madeline's breast. She wrenched free, slamming back hard against the mast. Gil let her go, laughing at the mark he'd left and at the fury in her eyes.

"Always lovely to see you, dear," he chirped before licking his lips. "I'm sure you won't object to loaning us your charming guests." With a wave, Gil stepped back and motioned for his men to retreat, taking Ray, Solomon and Florian.

As Florian was dragged past Trembly he said, "Ray's jacket."

"I doubt dressing fashionably for dinner will be his most pressing concern," Gil commented before turning back to Madeline. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a familiar hairpin. "I did find one interesting thing in that trunk of yours, Maddy. It's a cheap little trinket, but you always did seem fond of it. I thought I'd keep it for old time's sake."

Gil returned the item to his pocket, laughing at the murderous look on Madeline's face. Eventually he'd have to kill her, just because she was so annoying, but for now, he was having too much fun tormenting her.

"Adieu, darling. Until next time." He returned to his ship still smirking. It was only once he was back on board his own ship that he turned back and called out, "Do enjoy your visit with the constabulary, dear. They should be here quite soon, responding to a report of piracy."

Madeline didn't bother to watch Gil's ship sail away. She turned to her own crew, snapping out orders as fast as she could. She was holding her clothing together with one hand in a vain attempt to preserve her dignity but didn't want to take the time to change. She had no reason to doubt that Gil had reported her and, although there was nothing questionable on board at the moment, being detained would give Gil that much more time to find the map hidden in her trunk.

She called for Trembly and was surprised when he didn't answer or appear at her side.

"He went below deck, Captain," Davidson told her, looking as if he was afraid she'd kick him. He hadn't been on board very long, and he'd never seen her look quite this furious.

"Well, go and find him, sailor!" the captain growled before turning and stomping off towards her cabin. Perhaps it was best if she changed first. She didn't want to be half-naked when they came to arrest her.

XXXXX

Solomon had never seen Ray so angry at Florian. He was standing between the two men in the small cell, wondering how he could manage to calm things down before they drew too much attention and made matters worse than they already were.

It was bad enough that Florian had stepped between Gilbert and Madeline and drawn attention to himself. But to actually punch the man… Sometimes Solomon wondered if Florian had a death wish.

No, he reminded himself, that was just Florian. He'd been raised as an aristocrat, and for all the time he'd spent on misadventures with Ray, Florian would probably never be able to overcome his early training. In Florian's world, women weren't hit or debased in public – and if it happened in private, it wasn't acknowledged.

"Stop it!" Solomon finally snapped. He pushed Florian back towards the bench on one side and Ray towards the bench on the other side. "This is not the time or place for this."

Almost immediately, Florian's manner changed from angry to contrite. He lowered his head for a moment, and then raised it again, with a look of calm determination.

"My apologies to both of you. I didn't intend to drag you into this. When Gilbert comes to speak to us, I will make it clear that I acted on my own."

"Do you think he'll care?" Ray countered, his expression a combination of anger and fatigue. "You've given away your weakness already – and he's exactly the type to take advantage of that."

"I'm not an innocent any longer, Ray." Now it was Florian who sounded tired. "You can't always protect me. It's time I take responsibility for my own actions. And yes, it was foolish to get between him and the captain, but I would do it again."

"I know," Ray said slowly. Solomon couldn't ever remember hearing Ray sound hurt before, but he sounded that way now – as if Florian had delivered a fatal blow.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the trio, and none of them seemed able to meet the others' eyes.

It was a mercy when sleep took them.

XXXXX

Laila leaned over the railing, straining to see what was happening on the other ships. They had been diverted from their original meeting point with one of Michel's ships to the location of an alleged pirate ship rumored to have taken three men captive.

The pirate ship was ahead of them now, surrounded by three other ships. There seemed to be a lot of activity on deck, but they were too far away to make out any details, and Michel wasn't sharing his spyglass.

"Do you see Ray?" Laila demanded, tugging at Michel's arm again. He refused to take the hint and hand over the glass, so she intended to be as annoying as possible.

"No, I don't see him or the others, but there are a lot of people on deck. It's possible they're in the captain's cabin or below deck. If they really did take Ray and the others captive, they wouldn't be parading them around where anyone could see them."

Laila had to concede that point. She let go of Michel's arm and continued to watch the figures on the other ship slowly get closer.

Michel didn't even bother to suggest that Laila remain behind. When he crossed over the plank to the other ship, Laila followed right at his heels.

He was surprised that she waited quietly while the captains of the ships that had arrived earlier told them what had transpired. When the peacekeeping ships had arrived, they'd been surprised to find the supposed pirate ship flying a white flag and anchored, apparently waiting for their arrival.

"So Ray, Florian and Solomon were here, but they were taken away by actual pirates?" Laila sounded frustrated, and just the slightest bit resigned. It had been difficult enough keeping Ray out of trouble before Florian arrived. Now it was almost impossible – the blond attracted trouble like a magnet.

"Yes, they were shipwrecked by the storm – apparently on two different islands. Florian was rescued first, and he convinced the captain of this ship to rescue Ray and Solomon." Michel was on his best behavior – acting as calm and professional as Laila had ever seen him. It could only mean that he knew something that he didn't want the others to discover.

"That's terrible!" Laila cried, clasping her hands. She turned wide eyes on the man who seemed to be the head of the constabulary. "Please tell me they weren't ill or injured."

"Unfortunately, Miss, it seems that one of them has suffered a head injury and was indeed quite ill." The man put on his best calming manner and placed a hand comfortingly on her arm.

"Oh, poor, Florian," she moaned. "He's so frail. I'll have to make some of my special soup just for him. He's always so grateful to have it." It was all Laila could do to keep a straight face, and she played her part of concerned friend. She'd had plenty of practice in refining this particular recipe, and it never failed to amuse her when she presented it to Florian.

"Oh, dear," the policeman murmured, "I'm afraid I've confused you, m'dear. It was Count Courland who was ill, not the Rochefort lad."

"Ray?" This time Laila's distress was genuine. It was rare for Ray to be ill but when he was, it was usually serious. And now he and the others had been kidnapped by real pirates. She clutched Michel's arm hard enough to make him flinch. "Which direction did they go? What are you doing to find them?"

"Don't worry yourself, Miss. We've already sent two of our fastest ships after the scoundrels. We'll have your friends back soon enough. He's your sweetheart, then?"

"Please, just find them," Laila urged, through gritted teeth. She gave Michel's arm another squeeze for good measure, and then didn't speak again until the other men were safely out of hearing range.

"I want to talk to the captain here. Is that her?" she motioned discretely towards Madeline Pennington who was looking harried and unhappy. "Can you arrange for us to have a few minute alone? Perhaps in her cabin?"

"I'll see what I can do. But only if you promise to repeat every word of your conversation." He narrowed his eyes at her and added, "Both sides, not just yours. I know how your mind works, and it's almost as bad a Ray's."

"Yes, fine. Just see what you can do. I have a feeling that a woman to woman chat might be more informative than that bunch of roosters clucking at her."

Michel looked over at the group of men around Madeline Pennington and had to admit they did resemble a group of roosters all vying for attention.

"Make your way towards her cabin – discretely if you can – and I'll see what I can do." Michel gave Laila a cheeky grin and plastered on his most officious manner before striding off towards the group.

Laila was making her way as casually as she could towards the door to the captain's cabin when she caught sight of one of the crew carrying a familiar jacket. She changed direction towards him, fighting back her impatience.

"May I see that jacket?" she asked quietly, reaching for it automatically. The man hesitated for a moment, studying her.

"You're Count Courland's lady?"

"I am," she replied confidently, wishing it was true in the way this man meant it. "This is his jacket. May I have it?"

"Best be careful with it," Trembly said, enunciating the words meaningfully. He handed her the jacket, but retained his grip on it a moment longer than necessary. She held his gaze and nodded her understanding. He released his hold with a small nod of his own.

"I'd like to speak with your captain once she's finished with these men. Would it be acceptable for my escort and I to remain?"

"I believe that can be arranged. Why don't you make yourself comfortable in her cabin while I see how much longer these men intend to stay."

Laila didn't hesitate. She walked at a moderate pace across the deck and into the captain's cabin, looking only straight ahead. She left the door ajar and took a moment to look around at the mess that had been made by the police. With a sigh, she started picking up and straightening. She hesitated when she found a small pearl button of the kind Florian favored lying on the rumpled bedding.

She held it between two fingers and stared at it for a long moment before putting it in her pocket with sense of unease.

XXXXX

"Tell me again," Gilbert demanded, leaning against the wall, a long knife held casually in one hand. He'd had two of his men drag Florian out of the cell and down here into what clearly served as a punishment room.

Florian shifted uncomfortably in his chains, his shoulders already straining. His wrists were shackled high above his head, and his feet dangled almost - but not quite - to the floor, pulled down by a set of weighted shackles. It was stuffy and hot here, as if there wasn't enough air. His chest was already heaving, and the interrogation had only just started.

"We were out for an afternoon and got caught in a storm. We were shipwrecked and Captain Pennington was kind enough to help us."

"Yes," Gil drawled, "You've already said that. Try again. Maddy doesn't do favors out of the goodness of her heart. She does them for cash. What, exactly, were you intending to pay her?"

"Count Courland is a rich man. He intended to reward her generously for her time."

"I see. Count Courland is the rich man. But you are an aristocrat too, are you not, Florian du Rochefort?"

"I am an aristocrat in name only. My family fortune is a thing of the past."

"So you have nothing to do with the legendary Rochefort diamond?"

"Legend is correct; the diamond does not exist. Most likely it was re-cut and sold well before my time."

"A pretty story from a pretty mouth," Gil stepped closer, the knife blade flashing in the lantern light. The movement was so swift, Florian tasted blood before he realized he was cut.

"A small demonstration – nothing so serious as to mark that lovely face. At least not yet." Gil walked slowly around Florian, examining him from every angle as if looking for weaknesses. He seemed to think he'd found some when he returned to his place in front of Florian with a gleeful smirk.

"A pity you are in such rough clothing. Yours were damaged, I suppose?"

"They were. The captain was kind enough to loan me these."

"They don't suit you at all." The knife flashed, but this time Florian felt the tip of the blade as it parted cloth and drew a thin line down his chest. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the first time Ray took him to the basement and tried to force him to reveal the location of the Rochefort diamond.

Florian could feel a trickle of warm blood across his skin. He forced himself to remain motionless as Gil circled again, stopping once he was out of Florian's sight. Another line down his side, and another thin trickle of blood, followed by one down his back, and a last one down his other side. His shirt hung in tatters, but still Florian did his best to remain still.

"Interesting," Gil commented as he walked the circuit once more, stopping behind Florian again. There was hot breath on Florian's neck and then a single finger trailing down his back - but not where he'd been cut.

Florian closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lower lip, using the pain to help keep himself from flying apart.

"I see you are no stranger to the lash," Gil commented lightly as he continued to trace the scar. He seemed fascinated by it, and Florian hoped that it was not a warning of what was to come.

Florian closed his eyes and thought of Ray, knowing how angry the man would be if he saw Gilbert Abernathy touching him. Ray was possessive, sometimes to the point of obsession - especially when it came to Florian. It had been a point of contention between them on more than one occasion - the worst of which had resulted in that scar.

It had been after their failed attempt to get the 120-carat Rochefort family diamond. Florian had been useless for days afterwards - wallowing in grief and despair over the loss of his mother, his home and freedom, and angry at his aunt and uncle for their betrayal. The grief and despair made him reckless, and he directed his anger at Ray.

There had been terrible, bitter words exchanged time and again until he finally managed to push Ray over the edge. The trip to the cellar was almost a relief; pain was something Florian understood. Pain was something he deserved.

So he fought as Ray shackled him, swinging his body and his words wildly, needing to lash out, to hurt so that he would be paid back with the pain he deserved.

But Florian had never provoked anyone like this before, and had no idea what the limits were or when to stop. So he pushed harder, earning strike after strike until his body was nothing but fire. Finally, finally, it overcame the pain in his heart.

And he felt nothing.

Until he heard the sound.

Ray was crying.

Laila told him later, when the fever subsided and he had regained enough sanity to understand her words, that Ray had exhausted himself that first long day into the next, sitting at Florian's bedside and tending his wounds. Ray had been hollow-eyed and haunted, refusing to eat or sleep, speaking only to request more ointments or clean water and bandages.

It was Ray's care that had saved Florian - had kept him from slipping away. And it was her poultices and salves that had restored him almost to his untouched state. There was just the one scar, a long sweeping arc from right shoulder to left hip - and it was faint enough to be barely noticeable.

Azura had traced it once and said nothing. Ray caressed it often, even when Florian was clothed. And now this person was touching it with an air of excitement.

It made Florian feel unclean.

And for that, this man would pay dearly.

"Nothing so crude as a lash. This is the mark of a whip wielded by an artist. I doubt you've seen its like before," Florian replied, drawing on the memories of arrogant men he'd despised - those who'd sneered at him and his mother, who'd attended Mother's parties and assessed her like livestock, making sure that their opinions were easily heard by the other guests.

"Indeed I have not. Shall I search for similar marks?" Gil's hand roamed downward beneath the fabric of Florian's pants.

"You'll find nothing there of interest to a man," Florian sneered.

"Is that so?" For a moment the cold point of the knife rested against Florian's back, just above the waistband of his pants. He concentrated on breathing as regularly as he could, steeling himself not to react.

Finally, slowly, the knife was withdrawn, and Gil took a step back. He moved to face Florian, his eyes studying Florian's face. Florian had no idea what Gil was looking for, so he held himself still and concentrated on looking bored.

"Interesting," was all Gil said before he walked away, taking the lantern with him.

Florian was afraid he'd be left there in the dark, but a short time later, two men came and released him from his shackles and escorted him back to the cell where Ray and Solomon were waiting.

XXXXX

"Remain there until we come for you," the officer instructed as he allowed Madeline Pennington to enter her own cabin. He closed the door and there was the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

"Making yourself at home are you?" Madeline commented bitterly as she surveyed her cabin. Laila had been cleaning and straightening, but she'd had to guess where things belonged, and some of her guesses had been wrong.

"Trying to put yours back in order, actually," Laila countered with a saccharine smile. "A small token of thanks for taking care of Ray and the others."

"Ah, so you're his woman then? Interesting, I thought his tastes ran more towards blonds."

"It's not really your concern either way," Laila replied mildly, and then took the pearl button from her pocket and held it up to the light. "Although perhaps you do have some interest after all."

"If you're Ray's, then why do you care where a button like that was found? It's not his."

"No, but it is something his secretary might favor." Laila slipped the button back into her pocket. "You do realize that Florian, for all his title and noble lineage, is nothing but Ray's secretary. Poor boy was destitute and Ray took him in out of pity."

"Ah, so you're more concerned that I might have bedded one than if I might have betrayed them all. Interesting. I thought surely you had an interest in finding them if only to recover your man."

"Ray doesn't share his toys willingly. If you've touched something you shouldn't have, it won't matter what else you've done. He'll flay you alive." Laila leaned forward, placing both hands on the captain's desk. "Better that you be honest with me now, so I can intervene on your behalf."

Madeline laughed. "My this Ray does attract an interesting and devoted group. I owe you nothing, but I will answer you anyway; I did nothing with your Florian but give him a bed to sleep on while my crew and I were in port. If you're so quick to jump to other conclusions, perhaps you should consider why."

Laila studied Madeline's face intently for a long moment, and then relaxed at last, dropping into a chair with a sigh.

"He's nothing but trouble; has been since Ray took him in."

"You may want to reconsider that too; without his devotion to Ray and Solomon, I would have left them on their island. It was Florian's persistence that convinced me to look for them."

"And you haven't been in port since?" Madeline shook her head, no. "Then how did anyone know that they were on your ship, and why would they bother to kidnap them? Most of their belongings are back in Australia."

"It wasn't just anyone who took them - it was Gilbert Abernathy - one of the vilest men you could ever have the misfortune to meet. He's the lowest of pirates, but his lineage and title protect him."

"He's an aristocrat?"

"He is. Something I know too well - he was my fiancé."

Laila sat back in the chair, baffled by this new information. Something lumpy pressed against her side and she pushed at it before remembering - Ray's jacket. She picked it up and examined it curiously.

"One of your men gave me this - the big one with the beard - he seemed as if he was trying to tell me something."

"Trembly. He's my first mate, and someone I'd trust with my life. If he thinks there's something significant about the jacket then there is." Madeline pushed the items on her desk off to the side to clear a space. "Here, spread it out."

"Wait, turn it over," Laila said urgently, remembering the secret pocket that Ray had in several of his jackets. She was disgusted with herself for being so distracted that she hadn't checked for it immediately.

"There's something..." She carefully extracted the map and the little pouch.

"My map!" Madeline remembered to whisper just in time, and the words came out almost in a hiss. "They did find it."

For a moment she wanted to be angry with the absent men for not telling her about the map and pouch, but then she realized that if they had, the items would be in Gilbert's hands, just like the three men were now."

There was a loud exchange of voices just outside the cabin that had the women scrabbling for the map and pouch. Madeline shoved them both at Laila, although she hated to do it.

"Please keep them safe - they're my legacy. But if you need to use them to save Ray and the others..."

"I'll do everything I can to prevent that," Laila assured her as she tucked the map and pouch into her pocket. It was deep, and the drape of the loose trousers she wore helped to conceal the items.

"Madeline? We'd like to talk to you." It was Michel.

The women exchanged one last look before Madeline walked to the door and waited to be let out. Laila followed a few paces behind, trying to catch Michel's eyes.

"Wonderful news," Michel enthused. "The gentlemen have all agreed that you have been falsely accused by this Gilbert Abernathy fellow. You're free to go about your business. And, as a small token of thanks for your kindness to Count Courland and his party, I'd like to invite you to dine with me on my ship tonight."

With the other men looking on, Madeline had no choice but to graciously agree.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm hungry!"

"We're all hungry, Teddy, so shut it. It was your brilliant idea that landed us here, so you should be the last one to get fed."

"How long are they gonna keep us here anyway? We've been stuck in this brig for days."

"Yeah, and we're missing all the excitement."

"You're as bad as Teddy, you great lump. Eric and I got dragged into this because you bribed us with rum. What's your excuse?"

"Leave Billy alone, Jackie boy. He was just helping me out. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

"I do blame you, Teddy. You and those ridiculous penny dreadfuls you read. No good ever came of reading those things. My Mam says—"

"We know!" All three men groaned in unison, drowning out yet another bit of motherly wisdom in the form of a long, rambling story.

The four men fell silent, glaring at each other. They'd spent a lot of time doing that since their little misadventure in hiding the captain's trunk. It had seemed like a splendid idea at the time, but that had probably had more to do with the excess of rum than with Teddy's imperfect memory of an old penny dreadful tale.

"If we could just remember where we left the dratted thing," Eric muttered – again. He'd been saying that since they'd been found sitting in the middle of the ocean in a dinghy, hungover and with no memory of where they'd left the captain's trunk.

The other three men shared a look, trying to decide if it was worth killing Eric just to shut him up. Fortunately, they were saved from bloodshed by the arrival of the captain herself.

"Good news, boys. I've decided to forgive you, and let you return to your duties." She lifted the keyring and dangled it, letting them see that their freedom was within reach. "Of course, there is one small thing you could do to make up for taking my trunk…"

"Anything, Captain," Teddy promised for all of them. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out through the bars. "We'll do whatever you ask."

If they hadn't been so hungry and desperate to be out of the tiny cell, the others might have objected – or at least had reservations about agreeing so quickly to an unnamed task. But all they could think of was getting out. So they ignored the glint in the captain's eyes and gave their promises.

"Excellent. Good men." The captain slid the key into the lock but didn't turn it just yet. "Some supper for all of you, and a good night's rest." They all agreed eagerly. The key turned slightly in the lock, but not enough to set them free. "And in the morning you'll take one of the small boats and give chase to The Lady's Lament. Lovely. I knew I could count on you." With a click the lock was undone and the door opened. The captain walked away leaving the newly-freed men gaping in her wake.

XXXXX

"You there!" The guard opened the cell door and gestured to Florian. "Captain wants you to join him for dinner."

"What about my friends?"

"They'll be fed here soon enough. Captain only wants you."

Florian brushed his fingertips across Ray's leg as he walked past, and he caught Solomon's eyes for a moment. Then he stepped out through the cell door and tried not to flinch when it clanged shut behind him.

"Privy's in here," the guard told him, as he directed Florian into a new room. There was a set of fine clothing laid out, along with towels, a wash cloth and soap. In the center of the room was a small bathtub full of steaming, fragrant water. "Captain says you're to have a bath and put on that suit. I'll be out in the hall when you're done."

Florian watched the man walk away, but just before he stepped out of the room, Florian called out to him. "My friends need food and clean clothing too. Will you see that they get them?"

"Only if the captain orders it," the man replied. He left, closing the door behind him before Florian could make any more requests.

Determined to convince Gilbert Abernathy to release and care for Ray and Solomon, Florian made quick work of bathing and washing his hair. It did feel better to remove the accumulated grime and dried blood from his knife wounds, even if the soap stung the cuts.

Dried and dressed in the fine but ill-fitting clothing, Florian followed the guard up to the captain's cabin. The guard knocked once and, when permission was granted, held the door for Florian to enter. He closed the door again, pretending not to hear Florian's reminder to tend to the remaining prisoners.

"You're far too thin," Gil commented as he regarded Florian in his borrowed finery. "Those old things were too small for me and yet they hang on you." He strolled over and stood in front of Florian, letting his eyes feast on the smaller man. He brushed a hand along Florian's hip with the air of casual possession. "Your Count doesn't seem able to properly provide for you."

"Ray is more than generous, sir," Florian corrected formally. "Perhaps you would be willing to demonstrate your own generosity by releasing him and Solomon from their cell and providing them with food and a change of clothing. A bath would be most appreciated as well."

"Your loyalty to your friends is intriguing," Gil said with a sharp smile. "I wonder how deep it runs."

"I stepped in front of your knife once today." Florian reminded him. He knew he was playing a dangerous game – and it wasn't just his life on the line, but those of Ray and Solomon as well. With Azura there had always been a slight edge – no matter how much the man hated Florian, he still carried the smallest seed of affection for Ray. With Gilbert Abernathy there was no such advantage.

Florian knew Gil's type all too well – they were common enough among the French aristocracy – cruel men who would do anything to get what they wanted. He'd watched his mother fend some off over the years, and had had to fend off a few himself. His uncle had been one of those men – he just hadn't realized it until it was too late.

In the long dark nights when he first came to live with Ray, he often wondered what would have happened if he'd been reduced to taking money from one of them. Even in the twilight weeks after leaving Morocco, the thought haunted him. Would he have been left to Azura's less than tender mercies? Would he have been drugged and used until there was nothing left of him?

Even now, when he and Ray argued and retreated to separate bedrooms, Florian sometimes spent the night staring out into the darkness and reminding himself that the heat of Ray's anger was better than the cold grip of a predator.

Like the grip he was dangerously close to now.

"I've often wondered what it is about the sea that draws men to it," Florian said conversationally. He strolled to the small bar and helped himself to a measure of brandy. It wasn't his drink of choice in a situation like this, but experience had shown him that brandy had less effect than other spirits. He could use a bit of liquid courage, but not at the expense of his wits.

"They say the sea demands loyalty and deals death when she doesn't receive it." Gil moved in close to Florian, his body crowding Florian's as Gil fixed himself a drink. He choose whisky, pouring a generous measure and downing it in one go before refilling his glass. While he was there he topped off Florian's brandy and watched silently until Florian drank it.

"You were going to release my friends and arrange for them to be clean and fed," Florian pitched the words low, making them intimate. He refused to move away from Gil although the man was clearly trying to intimidate him.

"Was I? And what incentive would I have to do something like that?"

"Surely your very nature demands it. I thought you possessed a curious intelligence."

"You are certainly correct, Florian. Those are traits I possess along with many others. You could almost call them appetites as they are quite intense."

"And yet you are in possession of a mystery and will not avail yourself of a fine detective and a scholar."

There was a heart-stopping moment when Gil set his drink down and lifted his hand to grip Florian's face. He held Florian's mouth closed for a moment, silencing him before letting that hand trail down Florian's throat and along the line of buttons on the borrowed shirt. Florian held himself as still as he could, barely breathing.

Gil pressed him back against the bookcase and held him there by bringing his mouth down onto Florian's in a brutal kiss. His hands caught Florian's wrists and held them still as he ravaged his mouth, then moved down to his neck where he left a line of little bites ending in one as hard and angry as the one he'd left on Madeline.

Pulling back but not letting go of his hold, Gil dragged Florian towards the table. Two place settings had been laid at the far end, but this end was clear. Gil tried to turn Florian around and force him face first onto the table. Florian struggled a little, but didn't put up much resistance until he felt Gil's grip loosen just the slightest bit. Using a technique Solomon had taught him, Florian reared back, dropped down and did a half turn, using his arms and legs to throw Gil off center. He sprang up, using his weight to reverse their positions until it was Gil nearly bent over the table.

Florian braced himself against Gil's struggles, just managing to keep the man down. He leaned down over him and spoke clearly into his ear, his voice clipped and cold.

"Free my friends." Florian's hand slid downward under Gil's belt to claim the small knife hidden there. He pressed it against the base of Gil's skull and repeated his demand.

With a furious lunge, Gil moved backwards and to the side, dislodging Florian enough to make a grab for the knife. Florian saw it coming and threw the knife hard, hearing it hit something and clatter to the floor. In a rage, Gil took a wild swing at him, but Florian dodged it, dancing backwards out of range and putting a chair between them. Gil lunged forward again, catching Florian's shirt. It tore as Florian wrenched himself free.

Without thinking, Florian pulled back his arm and threw a wild punch at Gil. They were both shocked when it connected. For a moment the men seemed motionless. And then Gil dropped, stunned senseless.

Florian stood over him, shirt torn, hair disheveled, breathing hard.

And that was when someone knocked on the door.

Florian prodded Gil, but he didn't respond. Thinking quickly, Florian smoothed his hair and straightened his clothing as best he could. He hurried to the door and opened it just far enough to see who was on the other side. As expected, it was one of Gil's men - with a cart loaded with what was probably their dinner.

"Excellent timing," Florian said smoothly, making sure to block the man's view of the rest of the cabin. "Your captain and I are in the middle of a discussion and he does not want to be disturbed. Take this food to my companions - they're currently in the brig but the captain wants them relocated to a suitable room. They're to have clean clothes and baths as well. Once you've seen to that, you can deliver our dinner."

The man sputtered, but Florian simply stared him down. In his haughtiest manner he asked if there was a problem with following the captain's orders. The poor man shook his head looking miserable.

Florian closed the door. Normally he'd feel a bit sorry for the man, but there were more pressing concerns at the moment. The first of which was finding some rope.


	14. Chapter 14

"Thank you for inviting me." It had been a while since Madeline Pennington had been invited to a formal dinner. She surveyed the elegant table and thought of her usual meals taken at the desk in her cabin while she studied charts or read.

"We're delighted you could join us," Michel gave her a formal bow and offered his arm to escort Madeline to her chair. Laila was already seated, and from the place settings, they were to be the only diners.

Once they were seated, Michel rang a bell and two of his men arrived with a cart loaded with platters and bowls. One of the men unloaded the cart onto the sideboard while the other served aromatic soup from a fine porcelain tureen.

When they were done, the men retreated with the empty cart, closing the door behind them.

"I thought we might sacrifice a bit of formality for the chance to converse without interruptions." Michel held up the bottle of wine that was sitting beside his plate. Madeline nodded and watched as he made a production out of filling her glass and then Laila's before his own.

The soup was hot and delicious – and thankfully not fish-based for a change – and Madeline savored every bite. The others seemed content to do the same, but when the bowls were empty and Laila rose to serve the next course, Michel took that as a cue to begin.

"The map. You said it was your legacy. Care to explain?"

"It, along with the trunk that Gil has, was left to me by my grandfather on my mother's side. He said that it contained something that he wanted me to have when the time was right. There was no other explanation – but my grandfather loved puzzles and riddles. He was an adventurer who hated the formalities of aristocratic society as much as I do. His marriage to my grandmother was a business alliance arranged by their parents and they both hated every minute of it. Grandfather stayed away as much as he could. When I was ten, my grandfather began to fail and he came to live with us. My grandmother had passed away the year before."

Madeline paused and took a drink of her wine still feeling the tightness in the back of her throat. All these years and she still missed the only one in her family who had ever really understood her.

"Before grandfather died, he told me that he'd made arrangements for my future – a way to guarantee that I would never have to submit to a loveless marriage like he had. He said the key to my happiness was in that trunk. Unfortunately, my mother overhead him – although I didn't know it at the time. My family had already been planning to force me to marry Gil in exchange for a share of his shipping business. But now they wanted the trunk too. So mother told Gil what she'd overheard."

Madeline took another drink, draining her glass. Michel filled it again as he and Laila waited patiently for her to continue her story. It took two tries before she could get the words out.

"I didn't know any of this, of course. I was grieving for my grandfather, and barely noticed Gil's advances. I'd had other suitors and had turned them away without incident, so I didn't have reason to believe that Gil would be any different." She looked away, disgusted with herself. "I was such a fool. I never suspected that my family would betray me. But someone – I don't know who – drugged my wine one night at dinner when Gil was visiting. If not…. If not for Trembly, I would have been ruined."

Madeline took another long swallow of the tart wine and wiped her mouth inelegantly on the back of her hand. Without comment, Michel leaned back and reached into the cabinet under the sideboard. He pulled out an almost full bottle of whisky and a glass, setting it in front of Madeline before retrieving two more glasses. Madeline nodded once and poured herself a measure but didn't drink it. She just stared into the glass and started talking again.

"I don't even remember what happened – only that there was a lot of yelling, and then I was half-carried outside and put into a wagon. My clothes were in disarray and I didn't have a coat, but all I could think of was my grandfather and how disappointed he'd be if I left his trunk behind.

Trembly took me to a friend's house and they gave me coffee and made me walk off the effects of the drugs. When I was finally aware enough to understand what had happened, Trembly and I made plans to break into the house and get my belongings." Madeline's grip tightened on the glass but she still didn't take a drink. "Trembly got some friends and I made a map – we went in before dawn and took whatever valuables we could carry – the silver, jewelry, whatever money I could find. I filled the trunk with some things I wanted to keep and we left. We bought passage on the first ship out of England and worked our way south until we finally reached Australia. Along the way, we met a merchant of somewhat questionable reputation and traded what was left of the family silver for my ship." She shrugged and lifted her head, looking defiant and a little proud. "Since I come from a line of thieves and scoundrels, I decided to live like one."

"If the map was that important, why didn't you go after it before now?" Laila wondered.

"Do you have any idea how much time and money it takes to buy a boat and then assemble a crew – a crew willing to take orders from a woman? People are suspicious enough of strangers – I would have every real pirate in the region attacking my ship if they suspected I was after something valuable. No, I had to take time to learn the area, and let people get to know me. And then those idiot crewmen of mine got drunk on cheap rum and decided to take my trunk and bury it – just like in those penny dreadfuls!" Madeline finally lifted the glass of whiskey and drank it done in one go. She slammed the glass back down on the table, her cheeks flushed. "Any more questions or can we get to the map now?"

"The map and the rest of our dinner," Michel countered. "No reason we can't do both." He looked at Laila, as if waiting for her to serve the next course, but she just gave him a bland smile and gestured regally at the sideboard. Michel laughed, taking the hint.

As he placed full plates at each place, Laila retrieved the charts she'd gotten from Michel's cabin.

By the time the food was gone and the second wine bottle was empty, they had a destination and a plan.

XXXXX

Florian strolled across the deck towards the first mate, his hair and clothing disheveled and bruises blooming on his neck and face.

"Captain Abernathy wants you to drop anchor here and wait for further instructions," Florian reported, lifting his hand to brush away a stray hair and making sure that the first mate saw the fingermarks on his wrist. "He doesn't want to be disturbed for the rest of the day."

With a little smirk, Florian turned and sauntered away. He kept up the act until he was safely back in the captain's cabin with Ray, Solomon and a very unhappy Gilbert Abernathy.

Gil was bound hand, foot and torso to a chair, he was gagged and there was a blindfold covering his eyes and holding wadded up socks over his ears. They weren't taking any chances with the man.

Ray was still a bit shocked at the rapid turn of events. He and Solomon had been busy planning ways to rescue Florian when one of the ship's crew had arrived to take them from the brig to what seemed to be a hastily made up guest room. They'd been served an excellent meal and allowed baths, all on the captain's orders.

It was only when they were summoned to the captain's cabin and Florian greeted them at the door that the men suspected something was amiss. Florian's bruises and untidy appearance only reinforced Ray's worry. He was completely unprepared for the sight of their captor lying bound and unconscious on his own bed.

Solomon had been greatly amused by the whole thing and, after helping himself to Gil's whiskey, had taken a seat and watched avidly as Ray and Florian had gone back and forth at each other, all in low tones, so as not to be overheard by the crew.

The argument had ended eventually, with Florian standing patiently while Ray examined every cut and bruise. They way Ray's hands lingered on Florian's skin, and the expressions on both men's faces changed Solomon's amusement into something else – something warmer and a little bittersweet. He looked down into his glass, allowing them a little privacy, and only looked up again when Ray dumped a pile of charts in front of him.

"How good is that memory of yours, detective?"

"Good enough. Why do you ask?"

"Remember that map we found? We're looking for an island to match it."

They'd been studying the charts for a while when someone knocked on the door. Ray and Solomon looked at each other, searching for a way to get rid of whoever it was, but Florian just waved for them to be quiet. He picked up the glass of rum that he'd poured earlier and left untouched and took a quick swallow. Running his hands through his hair, he went to the door, deliberately misjudging the handle and rattling it before turning it. He leaned out towards the person on the other side of the door.

"Yeessss?" he asked as he listed against the doorframe.

"Message for the captain, sir."

"Right," Florian snatched the note and held it up as if he'd never seen a note before. "I'll give it to him. Bye." He gave a little wave and shut the door in the man's face. He locked the door and put his ear against the wood, waiting until he heard him walking away before he opened the note and read it. He handed it to Ray without a word, blinking a little at the way Ray and Solomon were staring at him

Ray shook his head, unable to completely dislodge the memory of Florian voluntarily acting like a drunkard. He scanned the message and handed it to Solomon, reaching for one of the charts they'd already looked at. He found the island named in the note and tapped it with his index finger.

"It does resemble the drawing on the map," Solomon concluded. "But what about the hatpin? What does that have to do with all of this?"

"It's got to have something to do with the map," Florian insisted. He reached into his vest pocket and held up the hatpin. "Madeline seemed to think it was important."

"So we have a destination, and we have a hatpin," Ray summarized. He was looking better for having had a good meal and a bath, but he still wasn't back to his usual self. He seemed to be thinking slower than usual. "And we're stuck on a boat with a man who kidnapped us and threatened to kill Florian. We can't keep him tied up here much longer without making the crew suspicious."

"So what do you suggest?" Solomon asked. He knew his friends were smart and brave – and quite often reckless - but he didn't think much of their odds against Gil's crew.

"I know," Florian said, surprising Ray and Solomon. He held up the thick adventure novel he'd been absently toying with. On the cover was a colorful illustration of a pirate captain, complete with parrot and crew of sword-wielding men. "We mutiny!"


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

"You're sure about this?" Trembly asked, frowning at the map in front of him. It was clear he didn't like this one bit.

"Quite sure. We have two choices - go after the treasure before Gil does and risk having him follow us, or put him out of commission."

"Is that your polite new word for murder?"

"Since when have I been worried about being polite? If I had meant murder, I'd have said it."

"It still might come to that," Trembly reminded her. He leaned back in his chair and considered the plan he'd just been told. No, he didn't like it. But he could see the reasoning behind it. Defeating Gil this way would not only stop him, but would put a stop to the Pennington's too. Once their association with Gil ended, Madeline could finally reclaim her place in her family - making it much easier to claim and protect whatever her grandfather had left for her. It didn't mean she'd actually declare it, but if she wanted to, that option would be open to her once Gil was gone.

"Thank goodness grandfather's letter is still with the solicitor in London. My copy is in terrible condition - all this sea air."

"At least it wasn't in the trunk." Trembly reminded her. It had been his idea to keep the letter separate from the map.

"True," Madeline agreed. She reached out and picked up the small pouch of gems that had been hidden along with the map. She emptied them into her hand and shifted them, watching them reflect the light.

"Did Count Courland or the lady have any ideas about the gems?"

"Not really. There are gems in the hatpin - but we can't try matching them until we get it back. We tried lining them up on the map in different configurations, but it didn't seem to mean anything." She held one up to the light and looked through it - they had been cut flat on the top and bottom and the edges were faceted, like fancy plates in a tiny tea set.

Madeline smiled at the silly analogy, remembering a doll house tea set she'd had when she was a child. She felt Trembly looking at her and met his gaze with a smile.

"It seems like it's been a long time since we relaxed like this."

"Not that long," Trembly corrected mildly, "But this is nice. It's good that you've found more people who are willing to help you."

"It is," Madeline agreed. "And in return, we can help them by getting Florian and the others back safely."

"So we have a plan."

"We do, and first thing tomorrow, we put it into action." Madeline refilled both their glasses and lifted hers in a salute. Trembly raised his in reply and they both drank, content for the moment.

XXXXX

"I'm not sure you can mutiny if you're not part of the crew," Solomon pointed out, but Florian waved off his concern and continued checking Gil's bindings. The man had regained consciousness again and was making a lot of noise. Florian wanted to knock him out again, but Solomon had stopped him.

"We can't just take a dinghy and escape," Florian pointed out reasonably. "Someone would go looking for their captain eventually and free him. And a small boat would be no match for this."

"He's not likely to be in a good mood, either." Ray added. "He already wanted to kill us. I don't think this will change his mind." With a clink he added another knife to the stash of weapons on the bed. He'd been searching the cabin for anything they might be able to use and had uncovered an arsenal. There had been a whip among the lot and Ray had happily claimed it; he'd left his own whip behind when they went out sailing all those days ago.

"What if we dress him up as one of us and lock him in the brig?" Solomon suggested. "Florian could tell the others that the captain is interrogating us one at a time and doesn't want to be disturbed. Florian would lock himself in here and make noises while Ray and I went to the lower decks and see if we could do some damage. If the ship needs immediate repairs, we'll buy some time for Madeline and the others to search."

"And once we get to port, we report our kidnapping to the authorities." Ray added, feeling better about this plan than Florian's idea of a mutiny. He really needed to do something about adventure stories Florian read - they gave him terrible ideas.

"Why do we need to move him at all?" Florian asked, motioning towards Gil. Knock him out and leave him here until we reach port." He reached out and touched Ray's cheek gently, caressing it lightly before pulling away. "You stay here and watch him. You need rest." He could tell Ray had a headache again, but knew better than to mention it in front of Solomon.

"Florian's right - we could keep up his drunkard act from before - say that the captain sent us to walk it off, but Florian's too nauseous to be on deck."

"Or we could send a message to one of the naval ships patrolling the area and turn Gil over to them." Ray countered. He didn't like the idea of staying on this ship any longer than necessary – he didn't trust their luck or Gil's crew. It wouldn't be long before the crew got suspicious and Florian's play acting wasn't likely to put them off when they started demanding to see their captain.

"According to the chart, we're not far from the island in Madeline's map. If we turn this ship and her captain over to the officials, we should be able to get a small boat and get to the island. Michel and the others can't be too far behind by now." Solomon looked much happier with this solution than Florian's elaborate plan. In fact, even Florian looked a little relieved. They'd all be glad to turn Gil over to the authorities and get away.

"Better be prepared," Ray suggested as he helped himself to a couple of knives and a pistol from Gil's collection. Solomon followed suit, and even Florian selected a couple of knives, and then reluctantly accepted the pistol Ray handed him. He still had vague, terrifying memories of shooting Azura, and he avoided guns whenever he could. Ray and Solomon had learned not to push the matter, but in this case, they both felt it was necessary.

"Now what?" Florian asked as he concealed the second knife in a sheath strapped to his ankle.

Ray's answer was interrupted by a knock on the door. He quickly motioned to Solomon and Florian to block the view of Gil and then opened the door cautiously to find the first mate standing there with a determined expression.

"Begging your pardon for the interruption, but there's a navy ship coming alongside and they're asking to speak with the captain."

"Certainly," Ray said politely. "He's freshening up at the moment. Let's go up and greet the visitors. He'll be up shortly." Ray cast a meaningful look over his shoulder at Solomon and Florian and then stepped out and closed the door.

A few minutes later, while Solomon and Florian were still hotly debating what to do, there was another knock on the door and Ray called out. "It's Ray; let me in."

Florian hurried to comply and opened to door to find Ray accompanied by three serious looking men in smart naval uniforms.

"This the one then?" The oldest and most decorated of the men asked as he eyed the bound and subdued Gil Abernathy. He turned to look at Florian, studying him a moment before asking, "Did he do all that damage?" Florian blushed, remembering his bruises and untidy state.

"He did. He would have done worse if I hadn't managed to land a lucky punch."

"Then it's a good thing we decided to check on this ship. We'll take over now – get this gentleman back to the mainland and see that he has a fair hearing." He looked at the three men. "Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen now?"

"There is," Solomon spoke up first, taking a step forward and introducing himself. "We were separated from our companions – perhaps you know Count Michel Courland? If you could loan us a small boat so we could return to Michel's ship, we'd be most grateful. I'm sure that Ray's lady is quite concerned about us."

"Wouldn't you rather we take you to port and you could arrange to have them meet you?"

"That's very generous," Solomon assured him, "But we'd rather the boat if you can spare it."

"Of course, of course," the man assured him. He held out his hand to each man in turn. "Captain Danvers. I'll leave my men here to guard this one. Meet me on deck when you are ready to leave and I'll see you safely off."

Danvers left and his two men moved to stand on either side of Gil, but they didn't make a move to untie him or remove the blindfold or other bindings.

Ray motioned to Solomon and Florian and they quickly gathered themselves and left. As promised, Danvers had a small boat ready for them and they were lowered into the water and waved on their way.

They didn't speak until they were well away from the two ships, headed towards the island they thought was the one in Madeline's map.

"I don't like this," Solomon said at last, looking over his shoulder at the ships. "That was too easy."

Ray and Florian nodded in agreement and kept rowing.

XXXXX

Eric, Teddy and their friends had been given shovels. They danced around the deck using them in a mock swordfight until Teddy nearly hit another crewman. There was a lot of yelling and then the shovels were temporarily replaced with mops.

"You know what shovels mean," Teddy whispered to his three friends as they all tried to mop the same section of the deck. "Treasure hunting!" The others were as delighted as Teddy, whispering furiously about the riches they might find – how the gold and jewels had once belonged to a beautiful princess on her way to marry a powerful king.

"During the sea voyage, the princess and her crew were set upon by the mighty Pirate Captain Blighty himself!" Teddy told them, stealing freely from a book he'd once read. "Mighty Blighty they called him – and he was terrible to behold. He had a hook where his right hand should be, and a stump for a left leg. They say there was a rapier hidden in his cane and that he'd killed seven men with that alone."

"What happened to the princess?" Eric demanded.

"They say she took one look at Blighty and threw herself overboard. Drowned from the weight of her own despair. So Blighty took the gold and jewels she'd brought along as a dowry, but he was saddened by the loss of the beautiful princess so he had his men bury her treasure as his way of remembering her. They say he carried that treasure map close to his heart for the rest of his life, but when he died, it was nowhere to be found."

"So…. If this treasure belongs to our captain, then she'll be a princess, right?"

The men regarded each other, wide-eyed and excited by this new revelation. They were more determined than ever to find the treasure. They'd never imagined they'd meet a real princess.

"Hey," Teddy said as a thought struck him. "You can't be a princess and a pirate, can you?" In his books they were always two different people – and they usually fell in love.

"You're right," Eric said, having a new thought of his own. "And you know what that means – we need to get the captain a new flag!"

XXXXX

"Steady there." A heavy hand was placed on Gil's shoulder. He blinked against the light, his eyes struggling to adjust after being in the dark for so long. He pushed back his rage, assessing his current situation before reacting. There was a naval officer standing in front of him with two more at his side. Three-to-one wasn't impossible but it required caution. He held himself still while his bonds were removed.

"Now then, I've had a serious report against you, sir." The man cleared his throat and consulted a piece of paper before continuing. "You, Gilbert Abernathy, have been charged with attacking the Bad Penny, assaulting her captain, and then kidnapping three of her passengers. Serious charges indeed."

Danvers leaned forward so he was able to look Gil in the eye. "Your first mate tells me it's all a misunderstanding and that you can set everything right." Danvers tapped his pocket significantly and waited for an answer.

Gilbert Abernathy smiled as he replied. "I can indeed. Please help yourself to something to drink and have a seat while I explain."

Forty minutes later Danvers and his men left Gil's cabin with a better understanding of the situation and very full pockets.

XXXXX

Florian and Solomon brought the boat up onto the shore of the island, panting with effort. Ray was in the boat looking mutinous, but at least he'd stayed. He still had a headache and his stomach was unsettled. He hadn't mentioned it, but Florian knew him well enough to read the signs.

He was grateful to step onto dry land, even if Florian did insist on offering a steadying hand. There was a rock nearby and he sat, willing the pain away.

"Ray…" Solomon's voice had an odd edge to it and when Ray looked up he realized why.

"This is our island. The one we were shipwrecked on." Solomon's tone was half amused and half incredulous. "At least we have a boat this time."

"And we're together," Florian added, looking around with interest. "Now what do we do? I suppose we have to wait for Madeline and the others to arrive."

"I don't think it will be a long wait," Solomon observed, shading his eyes with his hand and staring out at the distant specks on the water. "That's probably her and Michel."

"We should rest while we can," Florian suggested, giving Ray a meaningful look. It was an indication of how much pain he was in that Ray didn't put up more than a token objection.

Solomon told Florian he was going to look for something and returned a few minutes later with their makeshift canopy and bedding. They arranged them as comfortably as they could and settled Ray on them. Solomon insisted that Florian join Ray and was amused to see how quickly they both fell asleep curled up against each other.

The sight of them together reminded Solomon of the nights he'd spent with Ray on this island. It had been awkward, but he hadn't minded. He wondered if he'd ever have the opportunity to hold Ray like that again, then firmly stopped that line of thought – he had no wish to put himself between Ray and Florian – they were both his friends.

Better to leave it like that – a comfortable friendship – than to wish for things that could never be.

XXXXX

"Ray!" Laila barely waited for the boat to touch shore before she hopped out and ran to embrace her friend. She greeted Solomon and Florian with a little less enthusiasm, but was still very glad to see them.

Madeline and Michel joined them and spread out the map on a convenient rock. Adding the gems and hatpin, they tried various configurations, hoping to find the right arrangement.

After many combinations, they were no closer to knowing where they should go. In frustration, Madeline threw up her hands and walked away, taking long, angry strides across the sand. In her wake, one of the stones had fallen into the sand.

"Look," Florian said as he picked up the gem. It had left an impression in the sand and one edge was different from the others.

Enthused, they all knelt and smoothed a section of sand before dropping all of the stones. They removed one at a time and noted the edges that were different. Laila arranged each one so that the odd edges each aligned with a feature on the map. When they were done, they lined the gems in the hatpin up to correspond to the ones of the map. It left only one place for the pin to go – just a short distance from where Ray and Solomon had gotten their water.

"I know where this is. Come on." He led the group, including the four crewmen who'd brought shovels off at a brisk pace. They reached Ray and Solomon's camp and kept going through the bushes until they reached water.

"It's fresh," Solomon assured them and they took a break for everyone to have something to drink while they surveyed the area. They had some simple provisions that Michel had brought from his ship - thick crackers and slices of hearty cheese. They shared the food evenly, everyone glad to have the snack before continuing their exploration.

"There's a cave," Teddy pointed out. He was gripping his shovel and practically shaking with excitement. It was barely a dark patch in the distance.

Madeline laid out the map again, carefully arranging everything and matching it up against the landscape.

"The cave it is," she concluded, frowning. It just seemed too easy.

They were all anxious to get there, flushed with the exciting possibility of a real treasure hunt. They covered the distance quickly and gathered around to rest while Madeline checked the map again.

"That's odd," she commented, checking the landscape, then rechecking the map several times. "The map must be off. It looks like we're supposed to be on top of the cave."

"It's got to be in the cave," Michel said, offering encouragement. "Why don't we go and see?"

Luckily, they had brought lanterns along and they lit them now, before entering the cave. It was a short climb up, but there were enough rocks that they could ascend without much difficulty.

From the entrance it didn't look like much, but as they each stepped forward into the space it became clear that it was larger than they expected. There were a few loose rocks on the floor, but otherwise it seemed to be empty. Thankfully, there didn't seem to any bats or other creatures living there, and it was dry.

"There's another room," Madeline said, leading the way into the new space. "And there's something here." She leaned close to study the crude drawings etched into the cave walls. The others spread out, studying other images, momentarily distracted from their quest.

"They look like horses," Michel observed, leaning down to get a better look at one image. Others crowded in to see it, so he moved aside, and caught a glimpse of one that looked like a man. They were so distracted that they didn't hear the sounds at first.

And by the time they did, Gil Abernathy and his men had them trapped.

XXXXX

Trembly was furious. He glared at the man in the naval uniform and thought very uncomplimentary things about the man's parentage. He blamed himself for being caught unprepared. When the ship came alongside and asked for the captain, he thought it was just a routine check. He didn't suspect trouble until the contingent of men came on board armed to the teeth.

The rest of the Bad Penny's crew were locked in their quarters for the duration, and only Trembly himself was allowed on deck. It was clear they were allied with that pirate, Abernathy.

Trembly had never been a foolish man – he could be quick-tempered, but he also understood the value of patience. And right now, patience was his only advantage. The new arrivals all seemed anxious about something – there was an air of excitement and impatience that he intended to use to his advantage. But he'd need more than that to take back this ship.

So he waited and watched and pretended to cooperate. For now.

XXXXX

"Imagine meeting you here," Gil said in his smarmiest voice. He stepped forward to allow his men to move farther into the room, making sure every one of Madeline's allies was covered.

"Maddy dear. Oh, and Florian. We've some unfinished business, don't we?" Gil motioned to one of his men and pointed out Madeline and Florian. "Take them out of here. Wait at their old camp. And don't take any chances with these two. Bind them as tight as you like – hurt them if you have to." Gil laughed as two of his men dragged the pair away. The rest of Madeline's friends and crew could only watch helplessly as they were taken.

"Now, then. I believe you were looking for Maddy's treasure. Please continue. I do so enjoy watching others do my work."

"It's not here," Michel said after long minutes of fruitless searching. "There's nothing here but these drawings."

"And the drawings were put here for what reason?" Gil prompted impatiently. "As clues to the treasure. Imbeciles. Keep looking!"

Eventually even Gil had to concede – there was nothing else in that room.

"A pity," he told them once he'd ordered them all to line up against the far wall. I wanted to see the look on Maddy's face when I took her treasure from her. If it was valuable enough, I was even considering allowing her to live." He shrugged. "Oh, well. Either way, the boy dies."

Gil smirked at Ray and Solomon's reaction to that statement, then stepped back and gestured to his men. They lifted their pistols and fired into the ceiling multiple times, waiting until the rumbling began before turning and running out of the cave. Solomon and Ray tried to follow them and were nearly crushed by falling rocks.

XXXXX

Gil and his men scrambled out of the cave as it began to collapse. From below, there was a very satisfying scream and a cry of "Ray!"

Yes, this was going to be delightful. Gil was going to take out all of his frustration at losing the treasure on the bodies of his captives.

And when he was done with that, he'd make them pay for everything they'd done – no matter how long it took, or how little of them was left when he was finished.

He was nearly lost in planning their many tortures when he arrived at the camp to find Maddy and Florian tied to adjacent trees. Maddy was conscious, but Florian was not.

"Sir, the prisoners have been secured. The man put up resistance and we were forced to subdue him."

"He was tied up," Maddy argued. "All he did was call for his friends – you didn't need to hit him."

"Ah, yes," Gil said, lifting Florian's head to see the new bruise. The boy's pale skin was already marked from his fight with Gil and soon he'd have more marks – some of them permanent. Gil idly wondered if he should cut off a finger or two, but then decided against it for now – it was far too messy.

"Leave him alone, Gil. You're angry with me – don't take it out on him just because he was trying to help me."

"Is that what it was? He was helping you when he struck me? When he tied me up and humiliated me? Oh, no, Maddy. This boy has earned everything I intend to do to him and more."

Gil motioned for one of his men to hand him a canteen with water. Gil took one drink, then threw the rest on Florian, waking him up.

"Good morning, boy. It's play time." Gil knew that the real art of inflicting pain depending on timing. For instance, it was important to delay just long enough for the boy to regain awareness and realize that Gil was standing in front of him with the very same knife that Florian had used on Gil earlier.

There it was – that widening of the eyes, the flare of the nostrils, and a sudden intake of breath. It was like poetry, and Gil savored it like a connoisseur.

He'd rarely had two victims at the same time so he wanted to enjoy this to the fullest – not just Florian's pain, but Maddy's helpless frustration as well. If he could find a way to bottle this, he'd be a very rich and very happy man.

But alas, he'd just have to settle for drawing this out and then reliving the memories.

The shirt was the first to go – a pity since it was one of his own that the boy had taken, but these kinds of sacrifices had to be made. He danced the tip of the knife across the fabric leaving a little cut here, removing a button there – nothing as bold and graceless as the long slices he'd used earlier. This was more subtle – almost like shy flirting.

The boy was disappointingly passive, but Maddy was nearly ready to explode. So soon – how delightful.

Gil slowed his pace, shifting to Florian's side and leaving parallel slices in the fabric over his ribs. Repeat on the other side and then back to the front for another button. He still hadn't touched the undershirt or anything below the waist. He could almost see the steam coming out of Maddy's ears.

Gil couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun.

XXXXX

"Hello," Michel called, "Anyone injured?" There was still a little rumbling as rocks shifted, but the worst was over. Michel winced as an elbow made contact with his stomach. He shifted cautiously to the side. "Laila?"

"You're squishing me. Move over."

Michel did just that, feeling his way in the dark until he made contact with another person. "Ray?"

"Watch where you put that hand," Ray grumbled before asking, "Solomon?"

"Here, wait," Solomon said. There was a clinking sound and then the flare of a match. After a moment, the light grew as the lantern was relit.

"At least we have a light," Laila said. She looked at the four men from Madeline's crew who'd been left behind. They were still clutching their shovels. Good thing – with all these rocks, they'd probably need shovels.

"Look," Solomon said, pointing upwards. There was a weak light overhead.

"What's that?" one of Maddy's men asked. He was poking at something with his shovel. It was making a faint thunking sound. Solomon moved closer with the lantern.

"Looks like another room," Solomon said, "And if we're lucky, a way out."

The rest of the group gathered around him, gazing hopefully into the gloom as Solomon took slow cautious steps forward. It was very similar to the one they had just left. There were more drawings on the walls. The group spread out to examine them in the weak light.

"Solomon," Ray said as he moved in beside his friend. "Shine the lantern in that direction." Ray put his hand over Solomon's and directed the light towards the far wall. There was an odd shadow about a meter and a half off the floor. As they moved closer, it resolved into something that strongly resembled a door latch.

Ray leaned forward and turned it. It moved partway and then stuck. He tried moving it up and down, but it didn't go any farther.

"Let me see," Laila demanded and she leaned in very close and examined the latch. She pulled back and looked at Ray. "Do you have the map and the hatpin?"

"I do," Michel offered. "Madeline asked me to hold it when we were climbing up to the cave." He took the items out of his pocket. He handed the map to Laila and carefully inserted the hatpin into a small opening in the center of the latch.

There was a rumble - but one that was quieter and less ominous than the one that trapped them in the cave. Still, they all looked around nervously until it stopped.

Michel withdrew the hatpin and tried the latch. This time it opened, revealing a normal sized door hidden in the rock wall. Michel stood back to let Solomon lead with the lantern.

"Watch for traps," Teddy called, thinking of a book he'd read where exploring a cave ended badly for one of the characters.

"Thanks for the warning," Solomon said, giving the young man a smile before stepping cautiously through the door. He and Ray went in and ordered the others to wait. They did, but Laila's expression made it clear that Ray would be hearing about this later.

Long minutes later, Solomon returned and invited them in. Ray was already bent over one of several lanterns lined up on a long worktable. He lit several and handed them out so everyone could explore in groups of two.

"It's like a museum," Laila said, softening at last. She surveyed a chest full of what appeared to be trays of fossils. The floor was lined with similar chests alternating with tall sets of shelves that contained boxes of pottery shards, bone fragments and other artifacts, all neatly grouped. Another set of shelves was nothing but rocks of all colors and shapes. Beside that was one for seashells.

They spread out and explored, finding new and fascinating items in every drawer. They could easily get lost in exploring here, but every one of them was aware of the need to rescue Madeline and Florian.

"Look at this," Ray sounded choked and Laila hurried to his side with Solomon and Michel on her heels. He was examining a massive bookcase full of oil-cloth wrapped books.

"They're Madeline's grandfather's journals - all his travels and lists of the artifacts he found. There are maps, sketches. Names of people he met on his journeys. He recorded everything and brought these artifacts here for her."

"Her legacy," Solomon echoed, feeling almost as overwhelmed as Ray. This was a treasure far more valuable than gold.

Ray rewrapped the book he'd been holding and returned it to its place on the shelf. "We have to get out of here and rescue her and Florian."

"Sir?" Teddy stepped forward shyly and waited to be acknowledged before continuing. "There's another door here, sir."

"Good man," Ray said as he stepped forward and tried the door. It rattled but didn't open, so Ray held his hand out to Michel who handed over the hatpin. Ray used it and the door opened, even if it did take some strength to push it wide enough to step through. On the other side, there was a set of narrow steps carved into the rock. They followed them single file up until they reached one more door. This one led them out into an alcove above the cave they'd originally entered. There was a well hidden and overgrown path leading back down towards the ground.

They had just started to descend when they heard Madeline scream.

XXXXX

Florian was silent. He barely even flinched as Gil sliced the last piece of undershirt from his body, leaving behind a mess of shallow, bloody cuts. Beneath them were the bruises and the livid bite he'd inflicted earlier.

"The longer you resist, the sweeter your screams will be," Gil taunted as he stepped back and made a show of cleaning his knife. He would have liked to use his whip now, but it had been stolen. He made a mental note to take the price out of the blond's hide.

He cast a glance towards Madeline. She wasn't looking nearly frightened enough. Perhaps he should play with her for a while. He studied the array of weapons spread out on the ground and selected a long, thin bladed dagger. It drew blood with very little effort and made nice patterns in unmarked skin.

"You'll wait a lifetime to hear my screams," Florian commented, sounding almost bored. He wasn't even looking at Gil, but the man knew he had been watching and was simply trying to keep him from hurting Madeline. Gil knew his type well - self-styled heroes who'd risk their own lives for others. Damned fools.

"I probably will," Gil replied, allowing himself to be diverted away from Madeline - at least for now. It wasn't like he had to hurry - neither of his captives were going anywhere. "I mean your lifetime, of course. Which will be significantly shorter than my own."

"Perhaps," Florian said with an unnerving smile. "I'm living on borrowed time anyway. Coming from a cursed family, I'm probably overdue for a terrible fate. My mother was murdered by her own brother. My aunt tried to kill me but she succumbed to the curse of the Rochefort diamond first. My family home burned, our ancestral castle collapsed around me. With everything that's happened since, it's a wonder Ray has managed to remain unscathed." He turned his head and looked coldly at Gil. "I can't promise the same for you."

Something in Florian's eyes unsettled Gil. He took an involuntary step back from the blond, then realized what he had done. Irritated, he stepped forward again and slapped Florian's face as hard as he could. Florian's eyes teared but he didn't make a sound.

Gil gritted his teeth in anger and reached for Florian's belt. Perhaps he could withstand a few cuts on his chest and back, but most men were much more - responsive - when their lower regions were vulnerable.

Long minutes later, sweaty and panting, Gil stepped back to examine his handiwork. Florian, clad only in his undershorts and a sheen of sweat, was watching him in silence. There was a series of bleeding cuts on both legs to match the ones on his chest that had started to scab over.

Not once, not even when Gil had run the knife blade along the waistband of Florian's shorts, had the man uttered a sound.

"Are you half dead, man? Are you frozen there?" Gil grabbed Florian's genitals through his undershorts but other than a protective motion, Florian didn't respond. Furious, Gil brought up the knife and held it in front of Florian's face.

"You're practically begging for this, boy. What kind of sick creature are you?"

Finally, finally there was a reaction. But nothing like Gil expected. Florian laughed.

"What kind of sick creature am I? You cut me, threaten me, and when I fail to give you a show, you dare to ask me that? How can you possibly believe you can hurt me when a man whose heart pumps cruelty the way ours pumps lifeblood couldn't break me? The only man to ever leave his mark on me is the one who holds my heart. You? You're just bully with a knife."

Florian knew speaking so plainly was a risk, but he'd chosen to take it. But now, as Gil stood before him, incoherent with rage, the knife raised high and poised for a strike, Florian wondered if his time had finally run out.

He closed his eyes and sent a silent apology to Ray. Perhaps, after a period of time, he'd finally accept what Solomon was so willing to offer. The thought brought a smile to Florian's face.

He was still smiling when something rushed past his face and Madeline screamed.


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16

Trembly had a plan. He'd excused himself to use the privy and his captors, believing he posed no threat now that they controlled the ship, allowed him to go alone.

It had started with a stuck door - this ship was old and had been in need of repairs when Madeline bought it. After the first few times someone got stuck in the privy, they'd started keeping a knife in there to help unstick the door. One day it had occurred to him that having a weapon or two hidden there might prove to be an advantage one day.

Trembly opened the hidden panel and blew away the dust. There were a couple of cobwebs too so he brushed them aside before taking out the assortment of knives. There was a sword too, but that would be too obvious and Trembly didn't want to give himself away that quickly. He needed time to get downstairs to free his crew.

The few invaders that he passed didn't seem interested in his actions. They seemed mostly bored, as if this had been too easy for them. As he walked along empty corridors, Trembly also began to suspect that there weren't as many of the enemy on board as he'd first thought. It seemed as if most of them were on the bridge and only a few were below decks.

Good, he thought, that will make this easier and a lot less bloody. He reached the crew cabins without being challenged and used a knife to pry open the lock. It was old and rusty and didn't hold very well. If the crew had made half an effort they could have gotten themselves out.

"Grab anything you can use as a weapon and come along quietly. The captain needs our help."

The men followed along as stealthily as a herd of elephants. Trembly rolled his eyes and increased his pace. They quickly took care of the few intruders along the way, subduing them and dragging them along.

They burst out onto the deck, weapons raised.

"Oh," Edward said, striding over with a clipboard in hand. "You must be Mr. Trembly. This is the rest of your crew, yes?"

Trembly nodded, looking around in surprise at the group of men holding pistols on the invaders.

"Very well then," Edward gestured to one of the other men. "If you would show Kendricks where your brig is. The deck is getting crowded."

"But..." Trembly couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this out of sorts. He could hear rumblings behind him that let him know his men felt the same way. They'd all been ready for a fight and now there was nothing to do. It was very strange indeed.

"They won't all fit," he finally managed to say. "In the brig, I mean. But there's an empty storage room you can use."

"Excellent. Yes, that will do nicely. Lead the way, will you?" Edward jotted something on his clipboard, then motioned for his men to take the captives and follow Trembly.

"Now then," Edward said when Trembly returned still feeling a bit bemused. "About your captain. I understand that she, Count Courland and the others are on that island." He gestured vaguely towards the nearest landmass. "And they are possibly in peril thanks to that blackguard, Abernathy."

"They are?" Trembly demanded. "Then why are we standing here? Let's go!"

"We will, of course," Edward assured him before consulting his clipboard again. "I assume you have a weapon?" At Trembly's nod he continued, "Good, then we'll make preparations to leave at once. I'll leave a contingent of my men here along with your own. We've taken care of that turncoat Danvers, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious."

Edward turned on his heel and strode off to have a conversation with his men. Trembly used the time to converse with his own crew and then went to retrieve his weapons. Everything had been taken by their invaders and stashed in the captain's cabin so Trembly helped himself to a few extra items as well as his own; he'd return them when he and the captain were safely back on board.

None of his men were happy to be left behind, but they understood the need to protect the ship. Trembly praised them before he left, then suggested that they might want to clean the ship before the captain returned. The men seemed happier after that and were busy mopping and polishing when Trembly, Edward and two other men rowed away in one of Count Courland's small boats.

XXXXX

Three other boats accompanied them to the island. Trembly listened to Edward' talk - something about one of Count Courland's men overhearing one of Danvers' associates. Apparently Abernathy had bribed Danvers to capture and detain the Bad Penny while her captain was off the ship on a treasure hunt. Danvers' associate had been trying to gather men to go after them and perhaps get some of the treasure for themselves.

"Count Courland's men are all loyal to the core, you understand," Edward was telling him. The man was still clutching his clipboard and every once in a while he'd consult it and make a mark. Trembly idly wondered if he was playing tic-tac-toe.

It felt like they were going in slow motion, and it was all Trembly could do to stay seated in the boat and row. He wanted to leap out and swim, but knew it was pointless. They'd get there - he just hoped that nothing bad was happening to his captain. He knew he should have gone with her, but she'd insisted that he remain with the ship and take command in her absence.

He turned back to Edward who was still prattling on. Just for reassurance, Trembly gripped the handle of his favorite knife.

XXXXX

Land, at last! Trembly scrambled out of the boat and grabbed the line, hauling it up onto land and mooring it while all three boats emptied. They conferred for a few minutes, then split into pairs and spread out to cover more ground. They'd go as quietly as they could to try and assess the situation before revealing their presence.

It was a good plan, Trembly decided, moving as stealthily as he could alongside Edward. At least it seemed like a good idea until he heard Gilbert Abernathy's loathsome voice threatening his captain.

Forgetting stealth, Trembly raced forward, his knife in hand. He caught sight of his captain and the blond man, Florian, bound and helpless while Gilbert Abernathy stood before them and gloated.

Trembly didn't even take the time to think. He raised his knife and let it fly.

And then all hell broke loose.

XXXXX

Gilbert Abernathy raised a hand to his face. It came away warm and sticky with blood.

He turned his back on his captives, weapon raised and ready to be used, but a moment later something whistled towards him from the left and hit his shoulder hard enough to throw him off balance momentarily.

He whirled towards his new assailant only to have something else strike him from behind.

"Show yourselves!" Abernathy bellowed, whirling back towards Florian. "Show yourself or he dies."

"I would worry more about yourself at the moment," Edward said calmly as he stepped into the clearing with Trembly at his side. Three other pairs of Michel's men arrived from various angles while Ray and his group crashed forward into the clearing in a pack.

"Danvers!" Gil shouted.

"Danvers has other things to worry about at the moment," Edward informed him before acknowledging his boss with a nod. He made a notation on his clipboard and then returned his pen to his pocket with a flourish.

"I am Gilbert Abernathy," Gil shouted, wildly brandishing his weapon. "You can not treat me in this manner!"

He'd barely finished speaking before a whip snaked out and wrapped itself around Gil's neck. One hard pull and Gil staggered back, dropping his weapon as he brought both hands to his neck to try and loosen the whip.

Almost casually, Ray pulled back on the whip, causing Gil to stumble back, then drop to his knees. Reeling in the whip as he went, Ray strode forward and kicked Gil's weapon away before leaning down and speaking directly into his face.

"You have ten seconds to surrender before I hang you in Florian's place and give you ten injuries for every one you inflicted on him."

Gil reared his head back to spit, but before he could let loose, Trembly was there gripping Gil's chin tightly.

"I owe you for my captain as well." Slowly, calmly, Trembly used the knife he'd retrieved to carve an M on Gil's left cheek and a P on the right. Trembly looked at the others defiantly once he was finished, challenging anyone to object. No one did.

Edward stepped forward then, and motioned for his men to put Abernathy in irons and take him away. While they followed orders, Ray and Trembly freed Florian and Madeline.

Madeline threw her arms around Trembly and held on to him, letting him feel her body trembling and not caring if the others saw. Trembly held her tightly just like he had when she was a child.

A short distance away, Ray was holding Florian just as tightly, but his expression was fierce, almost defiant. Florian needed Ray's strength to remain standing after his ordeal, but Ray wasn't at full strength either, and their breakneck race down from the cave had taken more out of him that he'd ever admit. Solomon knew all this, but wisely kept silent, standing close to offer support if it was needed.

There was chaos for a while, with Michel and Edward coordinating their men to transport Gil back to Edward's ship. Michel would have preferred to have him on his own ship to keep an eye on him, but he didn't think Ray and Florian would appreciate Gil's presence, even if the man was going to be locked in the brig.

Laila took over arrangements for food to be prepared and waiting when they returned to Michel's ship. She also ordered that the ship's medical officer be on alert to give Ray and Florian a check over. She wanted to do more, but she knew from experience that Ray and Florian didn't appreciate a lot of fuss.

It was Teddy that reminded them about their discovery - the treasure had been temporarily forgotten in all the excitement. They offered to stay behind with some of Michel's men to safeguard it while Captain Pennington returned to the ship to rest and recover.

Of course, Madeline wouldn't hear of it, nor would Florian.

It took much longer to ascend to the top of the hill than it had taken for them to come down earlier, but everyone was tired and it was getting late in the day.

"Just a quick look now, and they we'll come back tomorrow morning and spend the day." Madeline offered reasonably. Trembly nodded his agreement - not exactly happy, but knowing better than to waste time arguing.

He wasn't expecting to be as excited by the discovery as Madeline.

"Look at it," she said to him, gripping his arm in excitement. "Trembly, look!"

And then despite her fatigue, she was suddenly everywhere at once, darting from chest to shelf and picking things up at random, only to return them carefully and move on to something else.

When Ray led her to the shelves of journals, she finally stopped. She clutched one of the books, turning page after page until she finally looked up at Trembly, her eyes filled with tears.

"Trembly..." was all she managed to say, but it was enough. He was at her side in an instant, holding out his handkerchief, and letting her cry.


	17. Chapter 17

Part 17

Billy, Jackie and Eric were taking a break, but Teddy was still happily exploring the items on the shelves and in the chests. The captain had kindly given her permission for them to stay and guard the treasure alongside some of the count's men.

"It was interesting at first," Billy complained, "But now it's kind of boring. I mean, how many old bones and rocks can you look at in one day?"

"Yeah, and I'm hungry. The captain sent us supper hours ago and there's nothing to drink but water."

"We could have at least had some wine," Eric agreed. The count let his men have wine with their dinner."

"Maybe she thinks we'll break something if we drink too much," Billy speculated. He looked around the large cave and frowned. "As if most of this stuff wasn't broken already. Who wants old broken pots anyway?"

"Don't you understand?" Teddy asked, carrying over a box and setting it down carefully in front of the trio. "These things are ancient. Like older than our grandparents even. It's like a mystery of the best kind - who made the pottery? What do the markings mean?" He knelt beside the box and opened it, showing them the array of shards carefully nestled inside. He took one shard out of the box and held it up. "What if we could find other pieces to match this - kind of a puzzle - and see the whole thing - if it was a plate or a bowl. You'd be like those professors in the fancy universities."

"Just by matching up broken dishes?" Jackie asked, sounding skeptical. "Without books or anything? Just matching up pieces?"

"Try it," Teddy urged, his excitement spreading to the others as they looked at the array of broken pottery with a new perspective.

"There was this story I read - about a famous explorer and his trusty assistant. They were on an island - like this one but with monkeys and everything - and they went deep into the jungle. They had to use machetes to cut their way through. The assistant didn't think they'd find anything and he wanted to turn back because they were getting low on supplies. But one night while he was making a campfire, he found a piece of pottery right where he wanted to make the fire. He showed the explorer who got really excited and said it was from a lost civilization. The very next day they found a lost city - with all kinds of artifacts like these right here. And they put some pieces together and discovered a legendary treasure!" Teddy sat back, breathless with excitement while the others talked excitedly. Before long, every one of them was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a pile of pottery shards and a determined expression.

XXXXX

Madeline settled into her chair and sipped at the glass of warm brandy that Trembly had brought her along with a late snack. She had taken a bath, but she was still too wound up to sleep. On the desk in front of her was one of her grandfather's journals. She hadn't been able to leave them all behind, so she'd settled for taking the first one on the shelf.

Just touching the book seemed to bring memories of him into focus. She hadn't thought of him without a tinge of bitterness and loss for a very long time. She knew he'd loved her, but she'd never really understood that until she stood in that room, surrounded by a lifetime of his labor, all carefully organized and preserved for her. He could have taken his place in history with such a collection, but instead, he'd bequeathed it to her.

But it wasn't just a legacy he'd given her; he'd given her freedom and an identity that had nothing to do with titles and social graces. She really could do whatever she wanted now, without fear or obligation to her family.

She felt lightheaded as the implications sank in. The weight of worry that had overshadowed her for so long lifted, and she felt as if she could dance right off the ship and into the clouds.

With Gil out of her life, for good if Michel was to be believed, then there was nothing else to fear. She could travel the seas like she had been, eking out an existence with loyal Trembly at her side. Or she could go land bound for a while and remember what it was like to eat fresh food, and only have fish when she wanted it.

But what of her men? Not the best or brightest crew, but loyal to a fault and worthy of her respect just the same.

Madeline leaned back and savored another mouthful of brandy. It was nice to have choices, but it was even nicer not to have to make them on someone else's schedule.

She didn't have to decide anything tonight, and so she wouldn't.

XXXXX

"How are they?" Michel asked when Laila returned to his cabin. She had her own, but she often choose to share his. Tonight they both welcomed the company.

"Sleeping. I dosed them both good, stubborn idiots." It had taken some time for Michel to realize that Laila used that phrase as a form of endearment in regards to Ray and Florian. After spending time with them, he understood and agreed with her logic.

"I would have dosed Solomon too, but he threatened to tip off Ray the next time I tried it, so we called a truce." Laila busied herself with her bottles and vials, putting them back in order in her carrying case before closing it and setting it aside for the next time it was needed.

"Tell me he's sensible enough to get some rest, unlike my cousin."

"He is. I think it helped that you put him in the suite next to Ray and Florian's. At least he'll hear them if they start arguing again." Laila kicked off her shoes and walked over to the small settee where Michel was sitting. He held out a glass of wine for her and she took it gratefully as she settled in at his side. "I gave him a key to their suite so he can check on them."

"Florian had every right to be upset with Ray tonight. Ray's still not feeling well and Florian was a mess after everything that happened with Gil. Ray was in no condition to spend the night in that cave playing with dusty artifacts."

"Your medical officer said that they would both be fine with plenty of rest and time to recover. I don't expect they'll get much of that until we're back at port." Laila drained her wine and handed the glass back to Michel before she laid her head on his shoulder. She was exhausted, she couldn't imagine how Ray thought he'd manage a night in the cave without passing out. Usually he was more reasonable - if only for Florian's sake.

"You look like you could use one of your own potions," Michel teased, stroking Laila's hair lightly.

"I don't need it. If I don't go to bed soon, I'm going to end up sleeping right here."

"Then perhaps you'd allow me to escort you, my lady?" Michel slid out from behind her and stood up, reaching down to take her hand and help Laila up. He pulled her gently into his arms and held her a moment before turning her and leading her to the bed.

He pulled back the covers and picked up her nightgown, helping her into it and enjoying the opportunity to fuss over her a little - Laila didn't tolerate that often. When she was in bed, he tucked her in, then walked around the bed to crawl in on his side. He leaned over to give her a kiss, and smiled when he saw that she was already asleep.

Michel turned out the light and settled in, drifting off almost as quickly as she had.

XXXXX

Solomon moved around the cabin quietly, straightening and cleaning things that didn't really need it. He was exhausted but too keyed up to sleep. He couldn't get the events of the day out of his head. One small change, a slight delay, and Florian would have been damaged or dead.

The very thought sent a cold arrow through Solomon's chest. He had no idea when he'd become so attached to the man - he'd always thought his affections belonged more to Ray, and any feelings he had for Florian were just by association.

But now... Solomon reached out and smoothed Florian's hair back from his forehead. He and Ray were deeply asleep thanks to one of Laila's magic potions. Guiltily, he lingered at their bedside, studying the way they had gravitated towards each other even in their deepest slumber.

Ray's arm was around Florian's back, holding him close, and Florian's head rested on Ray's shoulder. Florian's right hand had slipped partway under the neckline of Ray's sleepshirt and was resting over his heart. Ray's left hand was on Florian's arm. Both men looked serene, beautiful and young.

Solomon turned away, face burning as he realized what he'd been doing. He had no right to invade their privacy this way - no matter what his reasons. There was no room for him here - the sooner he accepted that, the better for all of them.

Unsteadily, Solomon returned to his cabin and poured himself a measure of whiskey. He drank it down all at once and filled the glass again. He drank that one slower, closing his eyes against the burn as he tried to calm his thoughts.

He was tired and it had been an exhausting day. This was no time to be making any kind of decision, nor was it beneficial to drink himself into a stupor while feeling sorry for himself. Ray and Florian were his friends - it should be enough. It would be enough.

Deliberately, Solomon undressed for bed and went through his nightly routine. The normality of it helped to calm him and by the time he was finished and had climbed into bed, his thoughts had settled enough for him to sleep.

XXXXX

Trembly paced the deck, twenty steps this way, turn, twenty steps back. The men on duty tonight had the good sense not to get in his way or to ask questions. Trembly was grateful.

There was a bottle of rum in his cabin - the good stuff, not the cheap kind that the men usually drank. Trembly had been saving it for a special occasion, and he had a feeling this was it.

Madeline hadn't said anything - it was too early yet, but he knew her well enough to know that she'd be in her cabin right now, weighing her options. And finally, after what seemed like a very long time, she actually had options.

The things her grandfather had left her offered so many possibilities. Trembly wondered if he should borrow that man Edward's clipboard for her - make a list - helpful to the end.

She could sell the artifacts - there were many places that would pay a fortune for such a collection. Or she could open a museum of her own. She could decide to continue her grandfather's legacy by continuing his explorations. She could even turn the whole thing over to someone else and live a life of ease. The one thing he didn't think Madeline would choose was this ship.

Trembly knew she was tired of living on the sea, tired of the salt water and the wind, and tired of the responsibility for the livelihoods of so many men. She'd bought the ship on a romantic whim - her head full of the stories she'd read in cheap adventure novels. Trembly hadn't discouraged her, because he hoped that on a ship, he'd be able to safeguard her from land bound predators like Abernathy.

Of course he'd known that he couldn't hide her away forever - but it had been good for a while, and he was going to miss it more than he could ever tell her. Madeline was the daughter he never had, and it was going to be as hard to let her go as if she was his own flesh and blood.

With one last look at the stars, and a nod to the crew, Trembly retreated to his cabin. He opened the bottle he'd been saving and poured one small measure into a glass.

"To Madeline Pennington and her happy future," he said as he lifted the drink. He swallowed it down and told himself that the water in his eyes was from the burn of good rum.

XXXXX

Ray shifted towards the warmth at his side. He opened his eyes slowly and smiled at the familiar sight of Florian looking down at him. The blond was smiling brightly which usually meant that Ray wouldn't be getting out of bed for a while.

"Breakfast isn't for two hours and I'm bored." Florian put on a fake pout that always made Ray want to bite that pretty mouth.

"Poor you," he commiserated, and his hands started exploring. Apparently Florian had been awake long enough to lose his night clothes.

It had been days since they had been alone together and neither man wanted to waste a minute. They often enjoyed prolonging their private time with teasing and banter, but not now. Now they wanted - they needed - to let their bodies communicate without distraction.

Florian shifted so he could straddle Ray's legs. Leaning forward, he braced one hand on Ray's shoulder while the other worked at the fastenings on Ray's shirt. Ray tilted his head up for a kiss and let Florian continue. He loved undressing Ray, letting his hands dance lightly across Ray's skin. Ray had never really cared for that kind of foreplay but now he enjoyed it as much as Florian.

"Shirt. Off." Florian demanded, breaking away just long enough to speak. He dove back in again immediately, his mouth reclaiming Ray's even as his hands strayed downward to tease along Ray's sides.

Ray pressed forward so he could remove the shirt completely and toss it aside. Once it was gone, he put his hands on Florian's shoulders and flipped the man back, following him as he went so their kiss was only broken for a moment.

There was an awkward moment while they sorted out their legs, but then they were kissing and grasping at each other with more intensity. It had been too many days - they needed each other now!

"Over," Ray growled, flipping Florian onto his stomach when the man didn't respond fast enough. Florian let out an 'oof' then laughed as Ray blew a raspberry on his back.

There was lubricant in the nightstand, and Ray fumbled for it, setting it down beside Florian on the bed before leaning down and licking part of the whip scar. Florian shivered.

Ray laughed and did it again, earning another shiver, and then an impatient thump as Florian back-kicked him lightly.

"So impatient," Ray teased as he opened the lubricant and started using it to prepare Florian. No matter how impatient they were, Ray wouldn't do anything until Florian was ready. Florian's first experiences had been at the hands of a cruel man, and Ray never forgot that. No matter how much they fought, or what kinds of games they liked to play when they were alone, he had promised himself that he would never do anything to remind Florian of his time with that other man.

"We only have two hours," Florian reminded him with a teasing grin.

Ray gave a mock growl and leaned down to nip Florian's shoulder. A moment before his teeth made contact with skin, he remembered the bite Gil had given Florian. Instead, he blew another raspberry and followed it with a long swipe of his tongue.

Florian reached back and caught Ray's arm, giving it a little squeeze to let him know that Florian knew, and appreciated what Ray had done.

That acknowledgement sent Ray over the edge - no more playing. He loosened his sleep pants just enough to free his erection and prepared himself quickly. Settling in over Florian, Ray covered as much of the slender man as he could before entering him.

They both moaned at the familiar joining. Ray put one hand out and took Florian's, squeezing tightly as he pressed forward. Florian squeezed back, then lifted his head so Ray could kiss his neck.

They didn't speak, although there were plenty of sounds of passion. They pressed their bodies together as much as they could, wanting as much contact as they could get.

Florian turned his head, arching back to reach Ray, who pressed forward harder. It was awkward, but they held their kiss as long as they could before breaking apart.

They moved in sync, the rhythm and the need familiar. It didn't matter that they fought so often. It didn't matter that they disagreed on so many things. This joining, this synchronicity. This mattered.

Ray wrapped his arms around Florian and pulled him back hard, pressing his face against Florian's neck. The blond gasped, and sobbed, and came, his whole body trembling.

Ray finished with a soundless cry, his body bowstring taut. And then Florian turned his head and kissed his jaw and Ray collapsed, taking Florian down with him and pressing them both into the rumpled bedding.

They didn't move for a long moment, and then Florian squeezed his hand once, letting Ray know he needed to move. They shifted just enough to lay side by side, their chests heaving and sweat cooling on their bodies.

Florian tugged at the blankets and managed to get them covered before he reached down and tugged at Ray's sleep pants - a familiar tease from when Ray was too impatient to completely undress.

The sheets were still warm from sleeping, and their need for each other was temporarily satisfied, so the two men drifted off to sleep - easier and gentler than taking Laila's potion.


	18. Chapter 18

Part 18

Solomon shifted, trying to get more comfortable but knowing it was impossible. Through the wall he could hear Ray and Florian. They weren't loud, but in the still of the early morning it was almost impossible for Solomon to pretend the laughter and moans were anything other than the muted sounds of passion.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard them, but it was the first time he'd been able to visualize them so clearly. Perhaps it was seeing them sleeping in each other's arms. Perhaps it was the lingering intensity of his worry and concern for both of them since being shipwrecked. Did it really matter why?

Solomon was a proud man, but he was also lonely. He knew that he had brought that loneliness on himself by devoting so much time to finding his sister's killer. But even after he'd found the man, he'd been unable to really settle down and commit himself to someone.

Instead, he'd found himself spending more time with Ray and Florian. At first he'd used the excuse that he was still trying to redeem himself for failing to capture the infamous Phantom Thief Noir while he was with the police department. But eventually he'd given that up and just accepted that it was more than duty that kept him coming back to Ray's door.

Oddly, it wasn't until he'd accepted that that he understood how much he had come to enjoy his friendship with Ray and Florian. He'd even reached a cautious level of acceptance with Laila that had gradually softened into a brother-sister relationship.

It was nice enough in its own way, but on nights like this, with the vision of Ray and Florian in each other's arms, and the sounds of their lovemaking filling his ears, Solomon needed more.

Feeling just a little like a voyeur, he loosened his sleep pants and slid his hand under the fabric. He was already hard and it was a relief to let his erection free. He reached for the nightstand where he habitually left a handkerchief - he didn't want to soil his bedding or his borrowed nightclothes.

He stroked himself lightly, eyes closed, letting the sounds from the next cabin guide him. He could almost see what was happening - the way Ray would be over Florian, holding and shielding him at the same time. It wouldn't matter how things changed between them, Ray would always want to protect Florian. And because Florian understood Ray, he'd accept that protection, and offer his own, much subtler form in return.

Solomon smiled at that - and realized once again how perfectly he fit between the pair - offering strength where they were weak, and providing a meeting point between gentleness and aggression. If only there was room for three instead of two.

He increased his own tempo as the sounds increased. It would be close, but he wanted to reach his climax as they found theirs. What would it harm? He was already intruding - at least this, in a small way, would bring them closer. Even if they never knew.

One stroke. Two. A lingering touch and a slight twist. He was there, body going taut, and then a long, slow exhalation and his mind started working again.

Beyond the wall he heard rusting and the unmistakable sound of kissing. And then there was silence.

XXXXX

"You're late," Laila greeted them with an impudent grin. She was just a bit disheveled herself this morning so Ray simply gave her a look and said nothing. Florian was too busy reaching for his silverware to notice - he was usually starved after a round of early morning lovemaking.

Michel had already eaten and was on deck conferring with the ship's captain. Solomon had finished his food and was lingering over his coffee while reading an old newspaper.

There was a companionable silence as they finished their meal. It was only when Florian set his empty teacup back on the saucer that Laila spoke.

"Michel's assistant has been working since dawn to make arrangements. He's got a warehouse reserved for now and is negotiating for a house for Madeline to use. He's contacted the local university for students who can assist in verifying the artifacts and checking them against the journals. She'll also want at least two, possibly three assistants to oversee their work. Security will be needed too. For now, Michel has agreed to have his men handle the transport - they're all loyal and trustworthy."

Ray nodded his appreciation for the efforts that had been made and Florian thanked Laila for briefing them. Solomon nodded his thanks too, but his mind was distant as he reviewed the arrangements for any gaps or weaknesses. So far he couldn't think of any, but he seemed to be having a slow start this morning, and his eyes kept straying to Ray's hands and the way Florian's hair brushed his slender shoulders.

He sighed inwardly and forced himself to concentrate. It was going to be a long day and dwelling on what he'd heard and done a few hours ago would only make it seem longer.

"Shall we get started then?" Ray asked as he pushed away from the table. He looked down at Florian and they shared an intimate smile before Florian stood and took his usual place at Ray's side.

Without realizing what he was doing, Solomon fell into step on Ray's other side. Laila watched them and said nothing, but there was a small smile on her face all morning.

XXXXX

Trembly knocked once and entered when invited. He had taken the breakfast tray from Wilkins and carried it to Madeline himself. He suspected this would be the only time they had to talk in private for the rest of the day.

"Trembly, good morning." Madeline greeted him with a wide smile. It had been a long time since Trembly had seen her smile like that and his mood lightened a little, although there was still a constriction in his chest. How many more days would they be together like this - Madeline as his captain and he as her loyal first mate?

"You look so serious," she told him, turning fully away from the window she'd been standing in front of. She hurried across to him and took his hand as soon as he'd set the tray down on her desk.

"This is a wonderful discovery, Trembly. Try to be happy? It doesn't mean I'm leaving you."

"You're not? But I thought... " He managed a teasing smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You were never really pirate material. You said so yourself. We don't even have a proper Jolly Roger flag."

"No, just a pink floral one," Madeline snorted indelicately. "Thank goodness we never had reason to fly it. We'd have been laughed right off the water." She shook her head but her voice was fond as she said, "Such idiots, my crew."

"Idiots, perhaps," Trembly agreed, "But loyal to their captain. They're good men."

"They'll have to be," Madeline said as she finally stepped back from Trembly and took a seat. She was meeting Michel and the others on the island in an hour and needed to eat.

"I mean, you'll need loyal men if you're going to be traveling the world."

Trembly stared at her, then sat abruptly, accepting the mug of coffee she shoved into his hands.

"I'm going to be needed here for a while - six months at least, possibly a year. I need to see what my grandfather left me - understand where it came from and decide how I want to proceed." She paused to eat a forkful of omelet, her eyes going distant for a long moment before she continued. "This isn't a storybook adventure any more. This is better, and I want to enjoy it to the fullest. But to do that, I need to ask something of you."

Madeline set her fork down deliberately and opened a drawer in her desk, taking out a rolled parchment. She handed it to Trembly then resumed eating while he unrolled it and read.

"You can't do this, Madeline." Trembly was shocked at the very thought. He tried to return the parchment but she wouldn't accept.

"Perhaps it's not fair of me." Madeline said slowly, watching Trembly intently. "But I can't think of anyone else who I would trust with my ship. You're the only one other than myself that I can imagine as her captain."

"But you..." Trembly tried to protest.

"I'll be land bound for months, Trembly. That means no work and no pay for the crew. And you - would you be content spending your days staring at dusty old bones?" They both already knew the answer to that - he'd be miserable, but he'd endure it for her without complaint.

"Accept this, and let us both do what we need to do. We've got enough delivery runs lined up to keep you busy for a few months, and we'll get more. Take the time to let the crew adjust to a new captain. You'll be in port often enough for us to make plans."

She reached out and tapped the journal that rested on the corner of her desk. "This is just the start. My grandfather spent a lifetime exploring and saw only a fraction of what he wanted to see. I want us to continue his work - to explore the places he never reached." She leaned back and laughed, as if aware of her own intensity. "I can't do it without you, Trembly. I want to you accept this ship, so that I can accept my grandfather's legacy. I won't even pretend I can do both."

"We may have to be less ambitious than your grandfather," Trembly reminded her gently. "You don't have his financial resources - especially if you don't challenge your family for the money that is rightfully yours."

Madeline nodded, accepting and appreciating his honest reminder.

"Then we'll do what we can. Even if we have to work in between to save money. She leaned forward again, her eyes holding his. "I would never have made it this far without you, Trembly. But I don't want you to do this only for me. Being a captain is a huge responsibility and you'll have to be concerned for the welfare of the whole crew - not just for mine."

Trembly leaned forward too, his hand resting on the desk next to the parchment. He reached out and tapped it, his mind racing ahead to the many possibilities - if he accepted, and if he refused. In the end there was only one choice; the one that was right for both of them.

"I humbly accept, Captain Pennington." He held out his hand and they shook, expressions serious. Madeline picked up the parchment and handed it to him.

"We'll finalize the arrangement when we reach port. In the mean time, I suggest we have a talk with the crew and let you start getting comfortable with your new role."

Madeline stood up and went to the cabinet where she kept her small supply of liqueur. She poured a small measure of good rum for each of them and carried the glasses over to the desk. Trembly rose to accept the offering and they raised their glasses to toast each other before drinking.

"Wait," Madeline said once the glasses were empty and Trembly was ready to leave. "I have one more thing for you."

With great solemnity, she presented him with the pink, floral Jolly Roger flag.

XXXXX

Teddy couldn't sleep. While Eric and the others had gradually drifted off in the early morning hours, he couldn't stop exploring. There was so much to see and who knew if he'd ever have another chance to see it all. He wasn't one of those brainy university types that usually handled precious artifacts.

He'd read plenty of adventure stories, though, and had learned a few things about handling ancient things with care. He made sure to neatly remove each item and place it so that it could be returned to precisely the same spot.

He lingered a long time over the fossils, his vivid imagination working overtime as he imagined the ancient creatures who could have left such markings. His fingers started to itch, wishing for pencil and paper to write down some of his ideas. Sometimes he liked to write little stories - although he could never imagine writing anything that other people would want to read.

Sometimes he wondered what it would be like - to be a real writer - like someone who wrote the adventure stories he liked so much. To be so smart and clever as to make pictures with words and carry readers along on daring adventures on the high seas or in the deepest jungles.

The very thought of being able to write something like that made Teddy want to laugh, but he didn't want to disturb his sleeping friends, so he leaned far into the chest he was exploring.

And that's when he saw the latch.

It was small, something that could easily be overlooked amid all the artifacts. Out of curiosity, he pressed it, and when nothing happened, he pulled it.

The wall behind him began to rumble and after a heart stopping moment, a section of the wall began to move, swinging inward and almost causing Teddy to tumble into the darkness.

He caught himself and scrambled to his feet. Somehow his friends had managed to sleep through the noise. Teddy hesitated a moment, but curiosity won out and he grabbed a lantern and proceeded cautiously into the new space.

He was almost in the center of the room before he realized what he was seeing.

Treasure. Real live gold and gems treasure. Chest after chest of it, all overflowing with riches beyond even the best descriptions in Teddy's favorite books.

He darted here and there, unable to decide where to start. He touched a gold chalice on the left, then replaced it to dash across to a gem encrusted necklace on the right, only to abandon it for an intricately carved casket overflowing with golden coins straight ahead of him.

Golden plates, silver candlesticks, rainbows of gems, some as big as a hen's egg. Each thing more beautiful, more fantastic than the last.

Until there, innocently placed in a tangle of other jewelry, was the most magnificent thing of all - a tiara. Teddy dropped to his knees, clutching it, tears filling his eyes and he imagined himself presenting such a beautiful thing to his own princess - Captain Pennington.

On the cover of one of his most treasured books, a handsome man stood beside a beautiful woman and gently placed a crown upon her head. Teddy would never be so bold as to expect such a privilege, but for the moment he could allow himself to dream.

Eyes closed, he climbed slowly to his feet, head and shoulders back. With great dignity, he lowered the tiara onto the head of his imaginary princess.

And then he wept.

XXXXX

The cave was crowded with Madeline, Laila, Michel, Ray, Florian, Solomon, Edward and Teddy. Trembly had remained on his ship, acclimating himself to his new responsibilities as captain. The crew had been happy to accept him, especially once they understood that Madeline would be back with them eventually.

It surprised Madeline that she let go so easily. The ship had been her escape, but she no longer needed it. She had something better - something that she choose, not something that she grasped out of desperation.

Here among the things her grandfather had so carefully assembled, she felt at peace. She moved among the shelves and chests easily, the edge of urgency gone and replaced by the knowledge that she had time to savor these things. Time to learn their shapes and functions and histories. She couldn't wait to begin.

But first, there was one chest in particular she needed to explore. Teddy had greeted her happily, but a little shamefaced as he confessed to looking at some of the items. She hadn't minded, and she'd told him as much, but he still seemed anxious and impatient - as if he had a secret he could barely stand to keep.

So, after a few minutes of exploring, she gave in and followed him to the chest, kneeling as he'd suggested, and removing a few layers of items.

And there, among the fossils and shards was something completely unexpected - a glitter of gold and sapphires. She picked it up carefully, her eyes lifting to meet Teddy's. He was smiling so hard his eyes were watering.

"Look again," he urged, his hands clenching against the urge to hold the tiara one last time.

"I don't see-" Madeline stopped as her questing fingers found the latch. The door opened easier this time.

The others allowed Madeline to enter first, with Teddy at her side. He held the lantern for her and followed her as she explored the treasures much like he had a few hours earlier.

He knew he'd done the right thing in letting her discover this herself, rather than simply showing it to her. After all, it was her treasure - she deserved that moment more than he did.

It was better than he imagined, seeing the joy on her face as she touched these precious things.

But it was best of all when she turned to him and placed the tiara in his hands. Without a word, she went down on one knee and bowed her head.

He somehow managed to keep his hands steady as he placed the tiara and offered her a hand up. But when she kissed him on the cheek, he blushed crimson all the way to his toes.

XXXXX

"You know what this means," Michel said to Ray as they watched Michel's men transport the contents of the cave into the warehouse Edward had procured.

"She can go anywhere, do anything she ever dreamed of, and she won't have to fight her family for any of her inheritance unless she wants to."

"I don't think she will," Florian said as he leaned tiredly against Ray. It was late and they were long overdue for supper, but they wanted to be here to see the last of the items transferred. It had been a massive undertaking, requiring the crew of four ships - three of Michel's and Trembly's in order to empty the cave and bring everything to port.

Edward had even arranged for a naval escort to ensure the safety of the crews and their cargo.

"That's the last of it, sir," Edward reported as he joined them. Madeline, Laila, and Trembly had gone to the courthouse to complete some paperwork for the transfer of the Bad Penny, and then Laila was going to show Madeline a house that was available for rent. They'd dine at a local restaurant and meet everyone in town at noon tomorrow for lunch.

"Excuse me, sirs?" A clear, well groomed Teddy stood before them in a brand new suit. He looked quite nice, and a bit older than usual with his hair slicked back. "Is Captain... I mean Lady Pennington here?"

"She's gone to look at a house," Florian replied, giving the man a warm smile. "But I believe they will be going to dinner afterward at The Seagull's Roost. I'm sure they'd be glad to have you join them."

"Oh," Teddy blushed, but not quite as spectacularly as he had earlier in the cave. "I guess I could... I mean, if you think it would be okay."

"It would be more than okay, Teddy." Florian placed a reassuring hand on the man's arm and when he didn't move, Florian turned him gently and sent him on his way. Beside him Solomon laughed softly while Ray just sighed.

"Matchmaking again?" Solomon teased. They all remembered - vividly - how well that had gone the last time, when Florian had tried to encourage a relationship between the widow Countess Kourey and an old acquaintance of Florian's mother. The countess had told everyone willing (or unwilling) to listen that the man had been impertinent for not asking her to marry him. The man had fled Paris and had yet to return, and Ray had nearly laughed himself sick. Twice. Solomon had had an unexpected guest for four days when an indignant Florian had showed up on his doorstep without even a change of clothing, and the whole thing had ended with Ray and Florian fighting, and then making up right in the middle of Solomon's living room. He'd promptly kicked them both out and locked all his doors and windows, refusing to answer until Laila came around with an invitation to dinner and Florian's handwritten apology.

"Teddy's a very nice man," Florian said, this tone just a little defensive.

"He's a dreamer - almost as bad as you, reading those ridiculous stories." Ray's eyes were bright as he met Florian's. It wasn't much of a secret that he was the one who bought all those adventure novels that Florian read. Nor did anyone believe him when he claimed he didn't read them himself.

"Nothing wrong with dreaming," Florian reminded Ray softly. He turned to Solomon and included him in the statement, leaving the detective feeling a bit confused. He wasn't quite sure of Florian's meaning, but a tiny sliver of him wondered...

"Can we eat now?" Michel asked with a whine. "I'm starving."

No one argued - they were all hungry, but no one missed the way Ray's eyes lingered on the artifacts before he left the building.

XXXXX

"The first group of volunteers from the university arrives tomorrow," Madeline reported as they waited for their lunch to be served. She'd hoped Trembly could join them, but he'd already left for his first mission as captain of the Bad Penny. It was a routine delivery, but he'd been as excited as Madeline had ever seen him, and he hadn't even minded the new flag the men had made - a light blue background with something that might have been meant to be a tiara. He'd simply thanked them and asked that they prepare to leave port. She watched them go, the blue flag bright against the morning sky.

There had been a minute when she'd felt her throat closing and a sense of loss, but Edward had been there with his clipboard full of tasks for the day and Teddy had been at her side, silent but supportive, ready to be whatever was needed in an assistant. The tight feeling had subsided and she'd turned away from the water, towards the carriage that would take her to the warehouse, where her future waited.

And now she and Teddy were seated in a restaurant among people she considered friends, debating the benefits of donating the artifacts to an existing collection as opposed to starting a museum of her own. In the end, they were all agreed that it would be better to donate to an existing museum - perhaps even split the collection and spread them among several museums. From there the discussion was what to call the collection and then whether she could demand the museums exclude her relatives.

In all, it was a lively dinner and ended far too soon. But there were many busy days to come and they all had an invitation to visit Madeline in the warehouse whenever they wanted.

When they walked to their carriages, Madeline was holding Teddy's arm.

XXXXX

"I thought they'd never leave, Ray grumbled as he watched Michel and Laila's ship depart. Madeline's volunteers arrived on Monday and Michel stayed for another three days, telling Ray that he wasn't leaving until he was sure that Ray and Florian had fully recovered from their ordeal. By the second day, Ray lost his temper and shouted at him - which was apparently all the proof Michel needed. It took a few days longer to make travel arrangements, but finally he and Laila had said their goodbyes.

It was harder leaving Laila - she'd taken care of Ray for so long that she still had trouble letting go, even now that she'd finally accepted Florian as part of Ray's household. Technically, she still lived with them, but when Michel had offered her the chance to sail around the world, she'd accepted Ray's encouragement and gone.

Florian could tell that Ray missed her - she was unfailingly cheerful and had much more appreciation for Ray's exploits as Noir than Florian ever would. But they knew she needed a life and a future of her own separate from Ray, and this was too good an opportunity for her to miss.

Solomon's presence had actually managed to fill much of the gap Laila left behind. And unlike Laila, there was no lingering hurt or jealousy from Solomon. He clearly knew the extent of Ray and Florian's relationship, yet he never commented on it, or even acknowledged it outwardly. But both Ray and Florian had noticed how Solomon would gently push them to spend private time together when they'd been apart too long, or how he'd quietly intervene when their tempers flared. He was a true gentleman, and friend.

And slowly, surely, they both realized he was more than that.

It was three in the afternoon - too early for dinner and too late to go anywhere farther than the edge of town. They'd spent the afternoon with Madeline in the warehouse yesterday and hours in the local bookstores the day before that.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to do absolutely nothing this afternoon?" Florian suggested with a devilish smile. He knew that Ray went stir crazy when he had nothing to do, and Florian had made it his hobby to find ways to divert him. Of course, those ways usually required privacy, not the presence of a third person. But Ray and Florian had had some very serious discussions over the last few days so Ray readily agreed to go back to the house they were renting.

They were barely in the door when Florian took off his jacket. The vest, tie and shoes quickly followed, leaving him in a shirt unbuttoned halfway down the chest, and loose trousers. For a change, he wasn't wearing an undershirt.

"Excellent idea," Ray said as he undressed to the same state as Florian. It wasn't quite as unusual to see Ray so casually clothed, but Solomon still enjoyed the view. In fact, he was enjoying it so much he missed their looks at first.

"You're overdressed," Florian complained as he helped Solomon out of his jacket. Solomon hadn't been wearing a tie or vest, so only the shoes had to go and they were all equally casual. But that wasn't enough for Florian. The man tilted his head back as if he were too warm, and then casually unbuttoned and removed his shirt, leaving his chest bare.

"Much better," he told them. "Ray, aren't you too warm?" It was a loaded question and Solomon was finally starting to sense that something bigger was at play than Florian's notorious dislike of being too warm.

He looked from one to the other, expecting to see their usual focus only on each other. Instead, they were focused on him.

"Solomon..." Florian started, but Ray motioned him silent and took a step forward.

"You're not one for games, Solomon, so we're not going to play any." He glanced at Florian, then continued. "Florian and I have been talking. We're happy as we are now, but we agree that we could be happier. With you. We won't mind if you disagree. Nothing will change. But we've seen how you look at us. We've heard you, at night."

Solomon rarely blushed, but he did so now, embarrassed that the times he'd overheard Ray and Florian had been overheard in turn. He felt as if the floor were dropping out from under him and there was nothing he could do but let himself fall.

"We're honored," Florian said as he stepped closer, his manner gentle and kind. "If we didn't trust you, you wouldn't be part of our lives. You wouldn't be welcome into our home." He reached out and placed a hand on Solomon's face. "Now we're inviting you into our bed."

Solomon couldn't force himself to break that gentle contact. He turned his head a little to look at Ray and found the man's expression open and welcoming in a way that he'd never seen before. If it were just Florian, he's still have doubts, but with Ray looking at him that way, Solomon was sure. They wanted him.

But did he want them? Did he actually want his dream to come true or did he just enjoy the fantasy without any messy complications. And with Ray and Florian there would definitely be complications.

He did step back then, and watched as a little of the light faded from Florian's eyes. He and Ray were so happy together - did it really mean that much to have Solomon join them?

He took a tentative step forward again, reaching out to Florian and then Ray, and feeling a bit shocked by their quick acceptance.

"Do you really..." He couldn't finish.

Ray did it for him, shaking his head fondly and stepping forward to pull Solomon into an intense kiss. Solomon melted into it, then stiffened again when he remembered that Florian was nearby watching. He pulled away, only to have his face turned and his mouth claimed by a different set of lips - more gently, yet just as insistent.

Solomon's head was spinning but all he could think was how much he wanted this.

He reached out his hands to both men, accepting what they had so generously offered.

It would be messy.

It would be complicated.

It would be the adventure of a lifetime.

Solomon couldn't wait. And from the smiles on their faces, neither could Ray and Florian.

::end::


End file.
